


Fight the fairies

by Nival_Vixen



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Derek, BAMF Lydia, Banshee Lydia Martin, Business, Businessman Derek, Businessman Stiles Stilinski, College Student Lydia, Complete, Derek Hale & Lydia Martin Friendship, Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Established Relationship, F/M, Fairies, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Insecure Stiles Stilinski, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Lydia and Derek adore Stiles, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Memory Loss, Multi, Polyamory, Porn with Feelings, Protective Lydia Martin, Seduction, Seduction via Star Wars, Star Wars References, Technology, Temporary Amnesia, Voyeurism, Werewolf Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-28
Updated: 2016-07-28
Packaged: 2018-07-27 05:08:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7604800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nival_Vixen/pseuds/Nival_Vixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles wakes up in the hospital thinking it's 2015 and he's 18 years old. Derek and Lydia tell him that it's actually 2025, he's 28, and <em>fairies</em> are the reason for his amnesia.</p><p>Stiles soon discovers this isn't the worst of it: he has to make a presentation to international clients at their work, Alpha Industries. (Oh, and the Fairy King and Queen are out to get him. But seriously, he has to give a presentation.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fight the fairies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [writingonpostcards](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingonpostcards/gifts).



Stiles woke up, his mind feeling oddly foggy and body severely aching in a way that didn't indicate growing pains. Unfortunately, after running with wolves for the last year, Stiles could tell the difference between types of pain now. He blinked a few times at the brightness of his room, then frowned when he realised that he wasn't in his bedroom. He was in a hospital room instead, and somehow, he had no memory of getting there.

 

The last thing he remembered was hanging out with Scott on the full moon - sans Isaac, for once - and climbing back into his room to sleep for the few meagre hours he had left before school in the morning. Stiles licked his dry lips, wondering what had happened. _Had he fallen from the roof? Had someone been lurking in his room, waiting to knock him unconscious? Or was it something worse?_

 

Stiles' hands clenched at the sheet covering him, his mind replaying his mother's confusion when she woke up in a hospital without any memory of getting there.

 

_No. There had to be another explanation for this._

 

"Dad?" he called, his heart pounding, lips chapped and dry.

 

The person that appeared in the doorway definitely wasn't the Sheriff, and Stiles' eyes widened at Derek's presence. It took a moment for Stiles to overcome his shock to notice that Derek wasn't wearing his usual leather jacket or permanent scowl. _In fact, was he **smiling?!**_

 

"Dude, what are you doing here? You're still a fugitive, you know," Stiles hissed, looking out to the main area of the hospital to see if Derek had been seen by the staff.

 

Derek frowned back at Stiles. "I haven't been considered a fugitive for almost ten years, Stiles. Lydia's getting coffee; word of warning: don't mention how bad it tastes."

 

"Wh-what? What's going on? Where's my dad? And why are you here? And why is Lydia here? Isn't she back on with Jackson again?"

 

Derek didn't reply for a long moment, then looked down to his hands, his right hand moving to cover his left imperceptibly before he looked back up at Stiles. "Stiles, what year is it?"

 

"Uh, 2015. Duh."

 

Derek's low muttered curse was almost too soft for Stiles to hear, but he understood the general gist of it, and realised that something was very wrong.

 

"Dad's not coming, is he?" Stiles asked reluctantly, trying to get a grasp on something, anything that felt normal.

 

"No, Stiles, he's not. John and Melissa are on their honeymoon in Italy."

 

"Italy? Why are they... Nope. Not thinking about that, ugh," he said, shuddering. "What year is it?" Stiles asked, his eyes closed tightly.

 

"2025, Stiles," Derek replied, sounding pained.

 

Stiles never did like to admit when he fainted, and now was no exception.

 

...

 

Derek hated hospitals, the smell of them overpowering his nose, and the sounds - the hum of machines, of people sneezing or coughing, babies crying, and children running and yelling through their hurt (or boredom) - overwhelming him until it felt like he was going insane. Not to mention the hospital's industrial-grade cleaning products that made his nose twitch. All of it combined made it difficult for him to scent or hear Stiles and Lydia properly, which in turn made both him and his wolf restless. He usually left hospitals a raw mass of tension and nerves, which only some serious scenting and snuggling time could cure.

 

Still, Derek would never deny the hospital's necessary treatments for Lydia or Stiles, not if they needed it, and right now Stiles needed it. Fairies had chased him right out on to the road, scratching at his face, and Stiles had been hit by a civilian's car. Said civilian had then insisted on taking Stiles to the hospital despite Lydia and Derek's best efforts to convince the well-meaning Samaritan that he was fine; it was just some bruising, swelling, and a smattering of asphalt. Stiles had been unconscious and unable to respond for himself. The doctors had come to the same conclusion, but decided to keep Stiles in for observation due to possible concussion. Stiles had fallen back to sleep soon after they'd finished seeing to him, and neither Derek nor Lydia had wanted to leave him alone.

 

While he waited for Stiles to wake up, Derek prowled the hospital hallways, trying to keep his hearing tuned specifically to Stiles' heartbeat for any changes. Lydia was getting coffee; despite complaining about the taste and texture of their last two cups multiple times, she was exhausted and refused to sleep while Stiles was still unconscious and vulnerable.

 

The second Derek heard Stiles wake, his heartbeat changing from solid and steady to its usual rabbit-fast pace, he ran straight up to Stiles' room and stopped in the doorway with a broad smile, so glad to see Stiles awake again.

 

Five minutes later, Stiles had fainted and Derek's smile was gone.

 

Lydia frowned at him when she saw him waiting in the hallway, looking tense and anxious to those who knew how to read the signs. Derek saw that she was carrying three coffee cups, obviously optimistic about Stiles waking up soon.

 

"What's wrong?" Lydia asked, voice soft and calm, trying not to set off Derek's already highly-strung nerves.

 

"Stiles was awake. Lydia, he... he thinks it's 2015," Derek said anxiously.

 

Lydia's lips pursed and she stepped into Stiles' room, Derek following her immediately. He closed the door behind him, watching as she set the coffee cups down carefully.

 

"2015? He barely recognised his spark back then. Depending on the time of year, he might still hate Isaac, too." Lydia sighed heavily, rubbed the bridge of her nose, and shook her head. "Fuck, I hate fairies."

 

As Derek looked over at Stiles' unconscious form, he couldn't help but agree.

 

"I'll stay here this time. You go outside, get some fresh air, and call John, Scott, and Erica. They'll want to know what's going on... Wait, call Marin first and see what she says about fairies and amnesia. I want to know if we need to go hunt down the rest of the fairies after all," Lydia said.

 

Derek felt oddly proud of how fierce Lydia looked, and pulled her close to kiss her gently. "I'll text you to let you know what Marin says."

 

Lydia tugged Derek back down for one more kiss.

 

"What are we going to tell Stiles when he wakes up?" Derek asked, one more question before he left.

 

"We're telling him the truth; you know how he'd be if we kept things from him. Besides, he'll find out eventually, and I'd rather not have our emissary pissed off at us."

 

Derek winced and nodded firmly in agreement. It was a bloody affair (and somewhat terrifying) when Stiles was pissed off at other people; the thought of their emissary being angry at them sent a shudder down Derek's spine.

 

...

 

When Stiles woke up next, Lydia was in the room and Derek had disappeared. Three cups of coffee sat on his bedside table. Stiles took a moment to stare at the Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital's cheap paper cups before he looked over at Lydia. She looked as lovely as ever, though as Stiles looked closer, he saw the laughter lines in her face (and a few worry ones as well), and he belatedly realised that Derek looked subtly older from the last he remembered as well.

 

While Stiles seriously doubted that this hospital visit was serious if his father hadn't needed to come back from his honeymoon, he still had to ask, just to quell his own fears.

 

"It's... It's not what my mum had, is it?" he asked, voice soft.

 

Lydia shook her head, adamant and firm. "No, Stiles, it's not. It was fairies," she muttered, scowling. "Your trap worked perfectly for most of the fairy flock and sent them straight back to whatever hellhole they came from, but three of the little bastards were able to get past the trap's thrall, and decided to get revenge on you instead.

 

"Derek and I dealt with them, don't worry," Lydia added firmly.

 

Stiles didn't have any idea what she was referring to, but he swore he could see a faint tinge of silvery blood on Lydia's nails. He felt a strange sense of pride in his chest that Lydia and Derek had dealt with the ... uh, fairies. ( _Which were apparently real?_ But then, so were werewolves, so Stiles supposed he shouldn't be so surprised.)

 

"The amnesia's only temporary; Derek's checked with Marin and she said you'll be fine in about three weeks."

 

"Marin... As in Ms. Morrell, the school counsellor?"

 

Lydia raised an eyebrow, arched and considering for a moment. "Among other things. She's also a Druid and Deaton's sister."

 

"Okay. And Derek didn't check with Deaton because?"

 

Lydia pursed her lips, grabbed her coffee and sipped at it, grimacing before she answered. "We discovered the hard way that Deaton isn't trustworthy, especially not where you're concerned."

 

"All right," Stiles replied, slow and uncertain because _what the actual fuck?_ He wasn't sure he wanted to know what that was about just yet. "Where's Derek?"

 

"I think he went to scare a nurse into giving us food. Or charm her, it's hard to say," Lydia admitted, grimacing as she took another sip of coffee.

 

"Are we... together?" Stiles asked hesitantly.

 

"Yes. You, me, and Derek."

 

"Uh-huh. And how does it - " He waved a hand awkwardly here, " - y'know, work?"

 

Lydia smirked. "Lots and _lots_ of practice. Along with a lot of lube."

 

Stiles' cheeks reddened. "That's not what I meant! Well, not all of it," he amended.

 

Lydia's smirk slipped and she sighed. "I know. It works because we talk through things; work, school, sex, life in general. You make sure we talk about everything, Derek included. In fact, you made Derek a talking stick a few months after we started dating; he says he hates it, but we all know he secretly loves it."

 

Stiles grinned at the thought. "I can see myself doing that. Is it pretty, too?"

 

"It's pink and it sparkles," Derek deadpanned from the doorway, carrying three trays of food for them.

 

"Aw, it matches your personality," Stiles snickered.

 

Lydia and Derek looked at each other, his words unknowingly echoing the same when he'd presented the talking stick to Derek, then looked back to Stiles. Derek placed the trays of food in front of each of them, then sat in the armchair next to Lydia and started eating his own food eagerly.

 

"Stop staring, Stiles," he said after swallowing a large mouthful.

 

"What? I've never seen you wolf down food like that," he replied, barely holding back his grin at his clever pun.

 

"I've never heard that one before," Derek muttered, rolling his eyes. "Erica called back; she and Boyd'll stop by the house tomorrow. Probably to see if you remember them."

 

"Of course I do. Gerard Argent didn't get them, then?" Stiles asked in relief.

 

"He got them," Derek said shortly, fists clenching.

 

Lydia reached over and grabbed Derek's hand, squeezing firmly. "We found them, okay? They're here, they're safe, and we found them."

 

Realising that he'd brought up some seriously bad memories there, Stiles decided not to ask about the Darach or Alpha pack. It was obvious everyone was okay, at least.

 

"Wait, where's Scott?" Stiles asked.

 

He worried for a brief moment that something had happened, something he couldn't remember - _maybe he'd sided with Deaton, with whatever had gone down there? It wouldn't be the first time Scott had taken..._

 

 _No, Scott wouldn't do that to me. Not again_ , Stiles reasoned with himself, firm and adamant despite the lingering doubt. He found he couldn't eat the rest of his lunch, his stomach twisting, and he pushed the tray away.

 

"In France with Isaac and Allison. They're back next week; I told them not to cut their holiday short," Lydia added.

 

"So Scott's with Isaac _and_ Allison? Ugh, finally. Who asked who out first? 'Cause I've got a bet going with myself that Scott wussed out," Stiles said, grinning.

 

"Allison did, of course," Lydia replied. "Just like I did with you two."

 

"You asked us out? Was it together or separately?" Stiles asked, curious.

 

"I was sick of you two dancing around each other, so yes, I asked you both out. I asked you out at the same time, there was a lot of spluttering and embarrassed flailing on your part, while Derek pretended to be a statue and ignore everything. Until you accidentally smacked him in the face." Lydia smirked. "I made you kiss him better."

 

"We didn't dance around each other," Derek replied, eyeing off the remainder of Stiles' sandwich.

 

Stiles pushed his tray towards Derek, then looked to Lydia in confusion. "Why me? I mean, I was obviously head over heels in love with you since forever, but you never paid attention to me. You literally walked into me once," he added.

 

Lydia shrugged. "You were more interesting when you weren't acting like a lovesick puppy. I prefer to have actual conversations with my partners, rather than being stared at for hours on end. It was cute for about five minutes when we were six, Stiles."

 

Stiles' sandwich was gone when he looked again, though he hadn't seen Derek take it, and at Lydia's pointed expression, he looked down and fiddled with the empty tray. "Sorry, Lyds. I... I guess I didn't think of it like that."

 

"I know. We got over it, Stiles. Mostly when you actually started talking to me instead of at me," Lydia added, reaching over to still his fiddling hands with one of her own. "Though, I think our first real conversation was an argument," she said with a grin.

 

Stiles squeezed her hand briefly, grinning back at her. Then his grin slipped from his face as he noticed something very damn important: two rings adorning Lydia's left hand.

 

"We're _married?_ Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded, looking between Lydia and Derek. "Where the hell are my rings?"

 

Lydia pulled her hand away and Derek looked out of the room to make sure Stiles' surprised shout hadn't been overheard.

 

"Keep it down, Stiles. If the doctors and nurses realise you've got amnesia, things will go from bad to worse really damn quick," Lydia hissed.

 

"It's not an actual officiated marriage because of current laws, but we had a ceremony," Derek explained.

 

He fished into his jeans pocket and pulled out Stiles' rings, handing them over. Stiles saw that all three of their initials were transcribed on the inside of each of the rings, with one ring reading 'I love you' and the other with 'I know'.

 

"Aw, you got _Star Wars_ on the rings. Please tell me it was my idea," Stiles said, slipping the rings on and admiring the way they felt and looked on his hand, a heavy warmth that he hadn't realised he'd missed.

 

"It was your idea. You spent a long weekend naked to convince us," Derek replied, his cheeks red.

 

"A four-day weekend, in fact. It was amazing," Lydia added, sighing wistfully.

 

Stiles grinned at the thought alone. Then he righted the tray on his small bed table and sighed. "All right, tell me why it's a bad thing for me to be in hospital. Y'know, besides the obvious," he added.

 

"Do you remember your spark?" Derek asked.

 

Stiles nodded, remembering the feel of mountain ash pouring out of his empty hand, the feeling of joy he'd had in that very brief moment. He hadn't been weak or defenseless then; in that moment, he'd been able to do something good and protect people.

 

"You're our emissary, Stiles. It doesn't affect your DNA and blood like being a werewolf does, but you heal faster than most people, and there are some... anomalies in your brain. They allow you to be open to magic, so you can tap into and use it. If the doctors find out about your brain, you'll be kept here for testing. We won't let that happen," Lydia added, firm and fierce.

 

 _Anomalies in the brain._ That's what they'd told his father about his mother, all those years ago. Stiles felt his heart twist in his chest, the ability to breathe forgotten as he clutched at his chest, reminded all too fiercely of his mother, watching her waste away day by week by month. He vaguely heard his name being called, both Derek and Lydia sounding desperate.

 

Stiles couldn't reply, couldn't gather breath, couldn't remember how to even breathe, his mind swallowing him into the darkness and -

 

A pair of lips pressed to his, and he remembered how to breathe, gasping for air as the darkness faded away. Returned to the bright white of the hospital room, Stiles stared at Derek, felt Lydia clutching his hand. No, not just his hand, but the heart monitor. _Right. Panic attacks probably weren't conducive to the whole 'we're going to scan your brain now, hey what's that?' thing._

 

"Okay now?" Derek asked, hand resting on his shoulder with black lines trekking up his skin.

 

Stiles nodded briefly. "Okay."

 

"Quick, put this back on," Lydia said, clipping the heart monitor back onto the end of his finger.

 

She had barely finished before there was a firm knock at the door. The door opened without a response, a doctor walking in with a folder. "Mr. umm... Stilinski?"

 

"Stiles," he said, giving the doctor his best 'I'm not magic, please don't scan my brain' smile.

 

"Right. How are you feeling?" the doctor asked, looking to the machines around Stiles and writing down necessary information.

 

"Much better. Can I go now?"

 

"Not yet, Mr. Stilinski. I need to ask you a few questions to ensure you're all right. Do you remember what happened?" the doctor asked.

 

"Uh. I got hit by a car?" Stiles replied, wincing when it sounded more like a question than an answer.

 

"That's right. Do you remember anything else? Why did you step onto the road?"

 

"To get to the other side," Stiles said, mock serious. Across the room, Derek coughed a laugh and Lydia glared at him, though her lips were twitching with a barely-repressed smile.

 

"Please take this seriously, Mr. Stilinski." the doctor said, not looking at all impressed.

 

"Dude, I got hit by a car. I didn't break anything, and I just want to go home. Aren't there other people out there that actually need this bed?" Stiles pointed out.

 

"If I let you leave before this is finished, then I could lose my medical license. But, of course, _you_ know better than six years of medical school and eighteen years' experience," the doctor snapped.

 

Derek stilled, hands balled up into fists at the man's tone, but it was Lydia who stepped forward looking ready to smack the doctor. Then, surprising Stiles, she smiled firmly; to Stiles, who had every one of her facial expressions categorised, this smile looked almost painful on Lydia.

 

"Stiles only just woke up, Doctor. He's on a lot of painkillers and probably needs some more rest to get over the shock of being hit by a car. Can you see your other patients and return to see Stiles in an hour? I'm sure he'll be much more amenable then, won't you, Stiles?"

 

"Yes. Definitely. What Lydia said," he answered, nodding firmly and trying not to wince at the pain that caused.

 

The doctor glared at Stiles one more time before leaving, Derek barely waiting for the man to leave before he shut the door behind him.

 

"Jesus, Stiles. Pissing off the doctor is another way to get stuck here for longer. He's probably not coming back for another three hours," Lydia said, sighing.

 

"Fine by me. Geriatric asshole," he muttered. "Tell me everything. What day is it? Actually, what's the date too?"

 

"It's Friday, 23rd of May. Memorial Day's on Monday," Lydia added.

 

Stiles nodded; it made sense to do something like trap fairies on a long weekend, since it allowed them all time to recover without worrying about work or studying.

 

Lydia and Derek spent the next hour answering all of Stiles' questions, and after the doctor returned two hours later, he was finally cleared to leave the hospital. It was a relief to more than Stiles, with both Derek and Lydia looking calmer when they were no longer stuck within the confines of the hospital walls.

 

"Uh, so where do we live?" Stiles asked once they were in the car.

 

Lydia was sitting in the backseat, looking ready to fall asleep right then and there after their ordeal and staying up for so long, but she clipped her belt on and answered Stiles' question. "We have a house in Herson, just on the edge of Beacon County. It's close to everything we need: school, work, the preserve, and our family and friends," Lydia added.

 

"Herson. I thought that was a blink-and-miss-it town _outside_ of Beacon County?" Stiles asked with a frown.

 

"It was. It's more of a yawn-and-miss-it town now. Beacon County expanded its borders a couple of years ago, and Herson was included in the border's restructuring. It helps that there's a witch's coven in there, they're under the pack's protection now," Derek explained as he drove out of the hospital parking lot and towards their home.

 

"That one's 'cause of you, Stiles," Lydia added, sounding proud despite her exhaustion.

 

"We're together, and Stiles is fine. You can go to sleep now, Lydia," Derek added, looking in the rear-view mirror to her.

 

Stiles was quiet as Lydia fell asleep. He played with the rings on his hand, turning them around as he tried to wrap his head around everything he'd been told. While he could readily believe that he loved both Derek and Lydia enough to be in a relationship with both of them, there was something still so odd about them loving him as well. In his mind, he still felt like he was a scrawny hyperactive 18 year old, too gangly and unattractive to ever be loved.

 

_Maybe it was all just a dream? A really in-depth and detailed dream where he still felt pain?_

 

Derek reached over and squeezed Stiles' leg briefly, smiling at him with an expression of pure relief and love that Stiles almost felt overwhelmed by it. "I'm glad you're okay, Stiles," he said, returning his hand to the steering wheel once more.

 

 _Derek Hale talking about his feelings?_ Stiles suddenly felt like Alice in Wonderland: believe six impossible things before breakfast. Or, in his current situation, before dinner.

 

"Yeah. So am I, as much as this can be considered okay," he added with a self-deprecating laugh. "I still think I'm 18, but in reality I'm 28 and so many things have happened in those ten years. Somehow, in amongst all of it, I managed to be in a relationship with both you and Lydia, which is... I mean, to 18-year-old me, it's a bit overwhelming," Stiles admitted, sounding a little hysterical.

 

"I suppose it would be," Derek agreed after a moment of silence and internal panic on Stiles' behalf. "Why don't you get in the back with Lydia and sleep? You always sleep better with one of us if you don't have your pillow."

 

Stiles looked from Derek to Lydia in the backseat. She was sleeping, looking peaceful and almost perfect, and he didn't want to ruin that. But before he could deny Derek's suggestion, he pulled the car over to the side of the road so Stiles could move to the back.

 

"Go on, it's all right. I'll wake you when we're home," Derek said, offering another smile, still so full of love.

 

Stiles couldn't quite understand how that much love could be conveyed in a simple smile, but he nodded, and moved to the backseat. As soon as he was seated in the middle, Lydia sleepily tugged him close until he was curled up in her arms, his head resting on her breast. Yeah, he could see how he slept better like this.

 

Though he'd spent most of the day sleeping already, Stiles fell asleep in a matter of minutes.

 

...

 

"We're home now. Hey, time to wake up," Derek said softly, gently shaking Stiles and Lydia awake.

 

Lydia woke easily, her nails scritching at Stiles' scalp gently, her fingers tangled in his hair. Stiles hoped he was woken up like this every day, it felt like pure heaven.

 

"C'mon, Stiles. We can sleep upstairs on an actual bed now," Lydia cajoled, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

 

"Mmkay," Stiles agreed sleepily, allowing himself to be guided out of the car, into the house, and up to the bedroom.

 

He paused in the doorway, the journey upstairs blurry and already sleep-forgotten, and Stiles had an odd notion of asking where he was going to sleep when there was only one bed. _Of course they slept together on the same bed. Why did he think otherwise?_

 

Lydia didn't let him linger long, taking his hand and tugging him towards the bed. Seeing how tired she still looked despite their nap in the car, Stiles felt a little guilty at delaying her sleep even for those brief seconds. He heard the front door close, and Derek was upstairs almost in the same moment, warmth radiating from his body onto Stiles' back.

 

"You're still in pain, let me help," Derek offered.

 

Lydia guided Stiles to sit down, her fingers in his hair again, and Derek carefully removed Stiles' shoes and socks. Stiles thought he'd stop there, that he'd just sleep as he was in his clothes, but Derek went to the chest of drawers and returned with a pair of soft pyjamas that Stiles didn't recognise, the Avengers gathered on the front in various fighting poses. (Stiles figured he'd bought those pyjamas himself.) They looked so comfortable that Stiles just had to touch them, the material worn and soft under his fingertips. Lydia made a small sound of amusement, pressed a kiss to his cheek, and continued her ministrations against his scalp.

 

"Are you okay to stand, Stiles?" Derek asked quietly.

 

All of his insecurities seemed to bombard him at once - scrawny, skinny, covered in ridiculous moles - and he froze at the idea of undressing in front of Lydia and Derek, who looked like actual models in comparison to anyone, let alone him.

 

Lydia pressed another kiss to him, this one feather-light and against his jawline. "One hundred and forty-two."

 

Derek blushed brightly at her statement, his ears pink.

 

"Uh, what?" Stiles asked, frowning.

 

"You have one hundred and forty-two moles on your body. We've counted them," Lydia said, matter-of-fact as she pressed another kiss to his jawline. "Numerous times, actually. I like to start from the top and work my way down, but Derek starts with your fingers and ends with your ass, no matter what pattern he makes in between."

 

"I don't have a mole on my ass," Stiles said, confused.

 

"Yes, you do. It's... it's along the curve of your left cheek," Derek said, coughing slightly.

 

Lydia nipped at his earlobe, making Stiles shiver. "We spent five hours counting every single mole on your body. With our lips," she added, smiling against his skin. "You were covered in lipstick by the time we finished. Derek discovered that last hidden mole purely by chance."

 

Stiles' pyjamas were clutched in Derek's hands, as if the memory was too much to bear for the werewolf.

 

"Derek's very gentle at changing us in and out of clothes, I promise," Lydia said, stroking Stiles' shoulders before she slipped off the bed. "I'm going to get my makeup off; I'll be back soon," she added, pressing a kiss to Derek's shoulder as she passed him to the ensuite.

 

Absurdly, Stiles felt more comfortable than he had five minutes ago. He didn't know if it was because of Lydia and Derek's knowledge of seemingly every part of him, or Lydia's promise, or just that he would only be undressing in front of one instead of two other people. Still, he managed to stand up, his body stiff with pain and his side aching like it had been rammed by a thousand-pound SUV.

 

As Lydia had promised, Derek was very gentle. He was also efficient and didn't linger, though if their positions were reversed, Stiles was certain his own hands would take their time to touch all of Derek's body. He was right about the pyjamas being comfortable, and as soon as he was dressed in the soft string-drawn pants and light shirt, Stiles felt even more relaxed than before.

 

"They're your favourite pair. You even spelled them," Derek said, sounding a mix between amused and proud.

 

"Spelled them how?" Stiles asked, starting to yawn.

 

"Comfort and relaxation spells to help you sleep. Lydia always says you should've included a long-life spell because they're falling apart," Derek added, definitely amused now. "You did the same spells with some of our pyjamas, and different spells on others. I've got a tie that boosts confidence for when I have to make presentations at work. The first time I didn't have it, I almost threw up; I keep the tie at work now," he admitted, smiling.

 

"Where do you work? And what kind of work do you actually do?" Stiles asked, trying and failing to imagine Derek working in an office cubicle.

 

"Alpha Industries. It's a company that creates technology that supernaturals can use, like cameras for werewolves, and cutlery for vampires; it also houses one of the most wide-reaching communication networks the supernatural community's ever seen. We've got everyone and everything from local and national werewolf packs to international vampire nests, witch covens, and wendigo clans.

 

"We also offer protection for those who are threatened, whether by hunters or other species, or by exposure from humans. In the past five years alone we've prevented over eighty inter-species attacks, and prevented the exposure of our kind multiple times."

 

"Wait, _we?"_

 

"Whose idea do you think it was?" Lydia asked from the doorway, grinning. "And don't think I didn't hear you give the professional spiel there, Mr. Hale," she added, making her way over to the bed again.

 

Stiles saw that she'd changed clothes and was wearing a cotton Powerpuff Girls nightie, one that looked as comfortable as his own pyjamas (and like his own pyjamas, Stiles suspected it was something he'd bought, not something Lydia or Derek would have purchased). Lydia offered a glass of water to Stiles, along with the anti-inflammatory and antibiotics the doctor had prescribed. Once he'd taken them and the glass was set aside, Lydia yawned and curled herself up against Stiles in her former position, her hands returning to his hair in a moment.

 

"You work the communications side, obviously, and your spells help with both the technology and protective measures. Derek's a very good test subject for the tech, and he usually helps handle disputes between species; he's a surprisingly good mediator when he chooses to be," Lydia said, smiling at Derek. "I help out where I can when I'm not working on my thesis."

 

"Where do the fairies fit in?" Stiles asked, his eyes closed as Lydia's nails continued to scratch against his scalp while Derek stroked his arms and body with large broad-palmed strokes. Some part of Stiles was certain that they were just scenting him, but he honestly didn't care if it made him feel as content as this.

 

"The fairies believe they're above anything mere humans could devise, and declared war on us. They've been attacking our workplace for the past two months. You created a trap to enthral them and when they were close enough, it would send them back to their own plane of existence, and far away from Beacon County."

 

"That worked out great, huh?" Stiles murmured sarcastically.

 

Lydia tugged at his hair sharply. "Hey, none of that! Your trap worked fine, Stiles. The last three were stronger than any of us realised, that's all. We'll figure out what to do in the morning," she added, yawning again. "You coming to bed, Derek?"

 

"I'm going to check the perimeter, make sure everything's all right. I'll be back soon," Derek promised, kissing Lydia on the lips and pressing a gentle kiss to Stiles' forehead.

 

Stiles let Lydia guide and tug him back onto the bed and under the covers. He didn't even protest being the little spoon because Lydia sounded so content as she sighed and settled down to sleep, her arm wound around his chest carefully.

 

The combined efforts of Derek and Lydia touching him, as well as the spells on his pyjamas should have been enough to send Stiles into a blissful sleep, but he found he couldn't fall asleep just yet. Not when Derek was still out there, not when he wasn't certain that Derek was home and safe again.

 

Derek returned after about fifteen minutes, his clothes sweaty, and his eyes Alpha red.

 

"You're an Alpha again?" Stiles asked, his voice soft in the night.

 

Derek nodded, not seeming surprised that Stiles was still awake and waiting. He stripped out of his clothes, all too happy to put them in the laundry basket and get rid of the hospital smell. He washed briefly in the bathroom basin, then returned to the bedroom to change into his own spelled pair of pyjamas. Stiles bit back a laugh at the Alpha wearing _Hufflepuff_ singlet and shorts.

 

"Do you have a problem with me being a Hufflepuff?" Derek asked softly, trying to sound stern and smiling instead. He slipped into bed to face Stiles, who was still looking utterly amused at his choice of sleepwear.

 

"I never thought the big bad Alpha would admit to being a Hufflepuff," Stiles replied, his voice hushed.

 

"I never would outside of our home," Derek answered, his tone serious.

 

Stiles realised then why his future self (or was it past self, since he was technically his future self? He decided to think about that tomorrow. Or perhaps in three weeks' time) had bought the Hufflepuff pyjamas for Derek: it was who he really was; he was loyal, loving, kind, patient, and despite everything that had happened to him, Derek was still a _good_ person. In their house - their home - he was allowed to be himself, no matter what the world outside thought of him with his stern demeanour. At home, he was comfortable enough to be himself, and Stiles hoped that he and Lydia knew how loved Derek was because of everything he was.

 

Shy, and overcome with feelings he couldn't quite name, Stiles moved forward to kiss Derek on the cheek. Even in the dark, Stiles was sure that Derek was blushing.

 

"Sleep now, Stiles. You're home and you're safe," Derek promised, shuffling in a bit closer so he could wrap his arm around both Stiles and Lydia.

 

Cocooned between Lydia and Derek, Stiles fell asleep a few minutes later.

 

...

 

In the morning, Stiles woke up alone. He wondered if it had all been a dream after all, his heart aching in his chest at the thought. He didn't have time to dwell, as Lydia walked in from the ensuite a moment later, drying off her hair with a bright pink towel, another towel wrapped around her body. Stiles suspected that the latter towel was only for his benefit; neither Lydia nor Derek seemed to have much issue with being naked.

 

"Morning. Erica and Boyd will be by later for brunch. You might want to have a shower so you don't smell like a hospital," Lydia suggested, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

 

"We do brunch?" Stiles asked, trying not to grin too much.

 

"Waffles, pancakes, and eating dessert before noon? You bet your ass we do brunch," Lydia quipped with a wink, walking over to the door that housed her wardrobe.

 

Stiles stared at the room she'd revealed, sure that it was bigger than his room back at his dad's house. If he still lived there, at least; maybe he'd moved in with Melissa? Or maybe they'd moved to a brand new place, one where memories weren't etched into every part of the walls? Stiles found he didn't mind it as much as he thought he might.

 

Realising that he smelled to his own nose - apparently his spells didn't do much for body odour - Stiles decided to have a shower. He headed to the ensuite, seeing a black towel, a space for Lydia's pink towel, and a third towel that was bright blue and so obviously his.

 

After stripping out of his pyjamas, Stiles took a minute to look at himself in the mirror. The car had done quite a job on him, though both Derek and Lydia had assured him it hadn't been moving fast as the driver had been driving slowly while trying to find an address. Still, there was a nasty graze on Stiles' side where he'd hit the asphalt, some bruising on his arms, and as he looked closely, what looked to be tiny scratch marks on the side of his face from fairies with tiny hands. He was thankful the doctor must've presumed them to be cuts from the road, because he didn't know how he'd even begin to explain _fairies_ without having his sanity questioned.

 

He also noticed that he had a few more scars than he remembered, though they were all white and healed now. Stiles frowned at one that was across his torso, the long jagged marks looking like something had tried to open his chest. He shuddered at the thought and redirected his attention elsewhere on his body. His actual face hadn't changed that much, even though his hair had grown out from its usual buzz-cut. He had a hint of stubble, but it was nothing compared to Derek's stubble, and his own laugh and worry lines were visible, but Stiles still recognised himself. His moles were in the same place, even though his shoulders were broader than he remembered. He also had some muscle definition; nothing over the top and ridiculous, but it was still there and he liked it. Stiles was pleased that his future self was taking care of himself... as weird as that sounded.

 

Stiles managed to work out the shower without scalding himself and stepped under the spray with a small moan of relief. Washcloths (and three loofahs) in the same three colours as the towels made it easy to tell which was his. The body wash, shampoo, and conditioner bottles were all separated as well, each sitting on its own small tray attached to the shower wall via suction cups. The fruity body wash was probably Lydia's, but Stiles didn't really have any idea about the others. Unlike the towels and washcloths, they weren't colour coded.

 

He uncapped the first one and smelled it, then did the same with the other. The first didn't have much of a scent, and the second kind of reminded him of pine trees. Figuring the first one was Derek's because the scented ones probably drove his senses into overload, Stiles squirted a dollop of the second onto a washcloth. Deciding that the shampoo and conditioner on the same shelf belonged to him as well, Stiles washed his hair with the unfamiliar products and hoped for the best.

 

Once he'd finished showering and dried himself, Stiles left the bathroom to find a pile of clothes sitting on the bed, obviously chosen by Lydia. As he pulled them on, Stiles was a little surprised to note that the clothes weren't his. Well, he presumed they weren't his because they were all a size too big, and in the case of the fluffy purple polka-dot socks, they were _fluffy purple polka-dot socks_. Deciding that the clothes were Derek's and the socks belonged to Lydia, Stiles figured that he might as well wear them. It would probably make them more at ease to have him smelling like them (well, Derek would; he had no idea what Lydia would get out of this other than some sort of amusement), and as long as he was dressed, Stiles didn't really care. (He discovered a few seconds later that the socks were seriously damn comfortable.)

 

"Morning. Are you feeling better?" Derek asked from the doorway.

 

"A bit, yeah. The shower helped," he replied with a quick smile.

 

"I'm glad to hear it. I brought you this," Derek added, offering Stiles his phone.

 

"Thanks," Stiles said, taking the offered phone.

 

He was surprised at how light the phone was compared to the phone he remembered owning in high school. The style was different too; where iPhones and Samsung Galaxy phones seemed to be getting bigger each year, this one was about the same size as his palm, probably closer to his original phone from the early 2000s. As soon as the screen connected with his thumbprint, the phone lit up and previews of several messages displayed as a list of holographic text in front of him.

 

"Holy crap! That's cool," Stiles said, grinning as he turned the phone around different ways to see what the hologram would do. "Is there a code too, or is it just a thumbprint?"

 

"Both. We had issues with shape-shifters trying to steal information; they can get past biometrics but no one thinks quite like you do," Derek said, grinning and sounding so very proud. "It's 2187, after Finn."

 

"Who?" Stiles asked, confused because he'd never heard of a Finn before.

 

Derek's eyes widened briefly. "Oh my god, you don't remember."

 

Stiles kind of wanted to point out the obvious, but then Derek grinned and called out for Lydia. She was upstairs a few seconds later, her expression showing that she obviously thought something was wrong. When she saw that everything was all right, Lydia scowled at Derek for scaring her, but then Derek whispered in her ear and her expression gave way to actual _glee_. It was almost as terrifying as the scowl she'd sported a moment ago.

 

"Oh, I'm so glad it's a long weekend," Lydia said, shaking her head.

 

"Uh. What's going on?" Stiles asked, looking between them.

 

Derek grinned, looking far too pleased with himself. "You'll find out after brunch, I promise," he said, then moved to kiss Stiles lightly.

 

Stiles could almost taste the happiness exuding from Derek, and couldn't bring himself to question him again. Though that didn't stop him from being curious as to what he and Lydia were planning.

 

Since he had about an hour before Erica and Boyd turned up, Stiles spent the time looking around the house. He wanted to become familiar with the layout, as well as to see if he could remember anything, in case the fairies' brand of amnesia could be overridden by pure will alone. Unfortunately, Stiles found that it couldn't.

 

Walking around the house and seeing everything for what felt like the first time made him ache for the memories attached to those things. As Stiles looked at the photos on the mantelpiece, he wanted to know where they'd been when they had a photo taken of all three of them at the beach, Lydia posing and looking gorgeous in her bikini, Derek actually able to look into the camera without lens flare, and Stiles only wearing board shirts which was unheard of. He wanted to know whose idea it had been to go ice fishing of all things, despite the smile on his face in the photo where he was proudly holding up a fish he'd caught. There were photos of Christmases with ugly sweaters and mistletoe and wrapping paper and presents; of birthdays with ribbons and cakes and presents; of his and Lydia's graduation from high school, then all three of them from college ( _Derek must have gone back to finish his degree_ , Stiles mused). There was even a photo of the grand opening of Alpha Industries.

 

There was a series of four photo-booth photographs, Derek's eyes closed or his head turned in each one, but he was smiling in every single one. The first one had them doing peace signs, the second one Stiles gave Derek bunny ears as Lydia laughed beside him, the third was ridiculous with them pulling duck faces (even Derek), and the fourth was Derek and Lydia kissing Stiles' cheeks, him blushing between them. Stiles really wanted to know when that one had happened.

 

Derek, Lydia, and Stiles' wedding ceremony was one of the larger pictures, right in the middle of the mantelpiece as a focus point. Derek in a navy blue suit with a grey tie, Stiles in a grey suit with a navy blue tie, both of them with purple boutonniere flowers on their lapels. Lydia wore a purple dress with navy blue and grey sashes tied about her waist. His dad was there, Lydia's mum, and even Melissa had a photo with them, though Stiles could imagine she would've protested initially. They had photos of their family, their friends, their pack, and Stiles' heart ached at the love and laughter he could see right there in front of him but he couldn't _remember_ any of it.

 

"Hey, Stiles? Are you okay?" Derek asked, drying his hands on a tea towel as he walked in to the lounge room.

 

Stiles couldn't bring himself to answer, to ask the questions that bombarded his mind, and instead, he hugged Derek tightly and buried his head against his neck. Derek hugged him back wordlessly. After a few minutes, Stiles could tell that Derek was scenting him again.

 

"Lydia gave me your clothes. And her socks," he added with a slight sniffle, looking down at his feet.

 

"She likes you to wear something of hers. Usually it's her underwear," Derek said, his cheeks pink.

 

"I've never had any complaints from either of you," Lydia said from the doorway, grinning at them. "Derek, the soufflés are almost done. Stiles, why don't I show you outside?" she suggested, holding out her hand.

 

Stiles nodded, squeezing Derek in a one-armed hug before he followed Lydia to the back door. Shoving his socked feet into boots, Stiles didn't even want to breathe too loudly in case the soufflés broke.

 

"It's all right, the soufflés will be fine by the time we get back inside. I want to show you something," Lydia said, taking his hand and guiding him off the wrap-around porch and down a stone path to a small outbuilding. 

 

"What is it?" Stiles asked as they neared the small building.

 

He could feel a tingling sensation in his fingertips, like he was brushing against the surface of water, but it was warming and calming instead of cold and clammy.

 

"Your workshop. You've got one at work, obviously, but this one is for your personal use. You do most of your emissary work in here," Lydia said, opening the door.

 

Stiles went inside, not sure what to expect. He was thinking a dark room with a cauldron, bookshelves full of dusty old books, maybe an assortment of jars with various eyeballs and entrails. Instead, it was an open space area that was light and surprisingly clean considering his usual state of being. There was a cauldron, but it wasn't sitting in the middle of the room bubbling away with some toxic green ooze, instead sitting empty on the stove. The bookcase that lined the wall was actually full of books, both old and new, but none dusty. A table sat nearby with a chair and laptop computer, and three armchairs near the bookcases. He had jars lined up on the bench along the window, all labelled and filled with things like rowan, sage, and _oregano?_ A chopping board and mortar and pestle sat in front of the jars, and if Stiles didn't know better, couldn't feel the magic thrumming along his body, he'd say it looked like nothing more than a small kitchen with a sitting area attached. Cauldron aside, of course.

 

"Oh. That makes sense, I guess. I..." he trailed off, trying to think of a way to word what he was going to say. "I'm the emissary for our pack, right?"

 

"Right."

 

"So is our pack just us three, or is it everyone? I know two Alphas can't be in the same area without serious territorial disputes, so how does it work with Derek and Scott?"

 

"They share Alpha duties for Beacon County; it's split evenly when they're both here, so there aren't any disputes. Derek's Alpha for the whole county while Scott's away or on holiday, like now, and Scott does the same when we go away. It was necessary to keep someone in Beacon Hills while we were all at college, and Derek volunteered to stay behind. Our pack is everyone, from Isaac, Erica, and Boyd to Allison, Scott, and Cora."

 

"Wait, Cora's part of the pack?"

 

"Yeah. She's studying in Barcelona at the moment, but that doesn't mean she's not pack. Distance doesn't factor into who is or isn't pack," Lydia added with a shrug.

 

Stiles wandered over to the bookcases, curious at the titles and potential knowledge. All of this information was in his head somewhere, it was just blocked right now, and on seeing everything, Stiles desperately wanted it back sooner rather than later. Seeing that a book about fairies was turned on its side, probably for easy access, Stiles took it off the shelf and opened it. The book fell open to a page with a handwritten letter tucked inside. Stiles was surprised to recognise his own handwriting and that the letter was addressed to him.

 

_Stiles,_

 

_If you're reading this, the fairies got to you, which sucks. Their usual attacks are the following: glitter that causes deadly rashes (usually fatal within 48 hours), a mist that makes you believe anything they tell you (used on potential victims to get them through the portal to the fairies' realm, where said victim is then devoured; it's gross, don't look at page 312), or amnesia which, again, allows for manipulation and devouring._

_Now, I'm hoping Derek and Lyds got you/us out of there if it was the last one. But even if they did, the fairies will probably still want revenge. You're going to be vulnerable, and depending how many years they block, you might make the pack vulnerable too. I've listed potential ways to get rid of the block, but you'll need Marin's help and she's out of the county getting ingredients at the moment. If Derek and Lydia haven't told you yet: do NOT trust Deaton. He's the kind of cryptic asshole who'll string you along for years, get you to use your magic, light up the town like the actual beacon it's named for, and then leave you for dead at the hands of a wendigo after he tries to steal your power for his own. I'm lucky Marin was in the forest that night, or we wouldn't be having this conversation (one-sided as it is)._

_Marin will probably take a couple of days to back to Beacon County, so in the meantime, I made up some talismans to protect everyone in the pack, including those overseas, just in case they decide to come back from their holidays early. (Hopefully they won't; Isaac's been going on about Fashion Week and France for almost eight months now, and if Mel doesn't get the proper authentic gelato she's been craving, we'll all be sorry.)_

_Talismans are in the box next to the stove; they needed an extra 24 hours to set, otherwise I would've worn it myself. Make sure you give Derek the pink one and get a photo for the collection. (Also, if you haven't found it yet, the talking stick is probably hidden somewhere in the pantry - look on the top shelf. Derek likes to hide it so he doesn't have to use it; make sure he uses it at least once this long weekend, okay?)_

_Oh, and one last thing: tell Lydia and Derek I love them._

_Thanks,_

_Stiles_

 

"Everything okay? Stiles?" Lydia asked, frowning when he put the book down and went straight to the stove.

 

"I wrote myself a note. The fairies aren't done with me yet, apparently amnesia's just the the first phase of their attack. Can you call Marin and have her come back here? We're going to need her help," Stiles said.

 

Lydia didn't even hesitate, nodding and stepping outside to phone the Druid. Stiles pulled the box out of the cupboard next to the stove and took off the lid. As his future/past self had promised, the box was filled with talismans, the top one bright pink.

 

"Marin wants to talk to you," Lydia said, looking inside.

 

Stiles stepped outside to take the phone from Lydia. "Hello?"

 

"Stiles, it's good to hear from you. What did your letter say?"

 

"Some stuff about fairies' attacks: glitter, mist, and amnesia. Apparently the amnesia attack makes me vulnerable, which makes the pack vulnerable. The fairies might not be after me as much as the rest of the pack, so I need to not have amnesia sooner rather than later," he said, trying to tap down on his hysteria.

 

Stiles expected Marin to take a long time to decide, to dither and dawdle like Deaton did, but she simply agreed.

 

"I'll finish getting the necessary ingredients, and I'll be there early on Tuesday morning. You have some line of defense?" she asked.

 

"Talismans. I'm not sure what they do or how they work though."

 

"Usually, talismans have spells embedded to protect and guard those that wear them. Do they have some way of being worn?" Marin asked.

 

Through the doorway, Stiles could see Lydia putting one on over her head. "Yeah, necklace."

 

"Good. Keep it hidden under clothes, and it'll be harder for anyone to rip off. In the meantime, I need you to start preparing the ingredients you do have to reverse the fairies' attack."

 

"Uh, okay."

 

"Gather three bundles of dried sage, eight tablespoons of morning dew - storing it in a clear beaker is fine - and find a lightning-struck branch of a birch tree. I'll bring the rest of the ingredients."

 

"All right. Thanks, Marin."

 

"You're welcome, Stiles," she replied. "See you on Tuesday morning."

 

"See you then," Stiles said, ending the call.

 

"What did Marin say?" Lydia asked, the talisman already tucked under her shirt.

 

"She's going to be here early on Tuesday morning. I have to gather some ingredients though: dried sage, morning dew, and a branch from a birch tree that's been struck by lightning."

 

"I know you've already got quite a lot of dried sage in here," Lydia said, turning to hunt through his jars, opening drawers to reveal more. "Morning dew you can gather, I'm sure; and Derek can help with the birch tree. I'm sure there's some in the preserve, hopefully one's been hit with lightning," she mused, reading two jar labels before holding one out to Stiles. "There you are, dried sage."

 

"Is that enough for three bundles?" he asked, not quite sure what constituted a bundle of anything, really.

 

"We'll find out soon enough," Lydia said, offering a spool of kitchen twine to him.

 

By the time Stiles had wrapped three bundles of sage into something vaguely resembling a smudge stick and actually useful, Derek called out to say that Erica and Boyd had arrived.

 

...

 

"Hey, Batman. Remember me?" Erica asked, grinning broadly.

 

"Of course I remember you, Catwoman. I also seem to remember you smashing my face with a piece of my Jeep," Stiles said pointedly.

 

Erica's grin faded. "I apologised for that."

 

"How'd you apologise?"

 

"She gave you peanut butter cups and let you motorboat her. It was awkward for everyone," Lydia said, her arm wound around Stiles' waist possessively.

 

"Hey, we had fun," Erica said, winking at Stiles.

 

"Uh. I don't know how to answer that without keeping everything intact. Boyd, help?" Stiles eeped.

 

"No," Boyd replied, looking far too amused at Stiles' predicament. "I'm glad you're okay, Stiles," he added, moving past Erica to clasp Stiles' shoulder.

 

Without waiting for a reply, he continued past to the kitchen.

 

"I kind of want to know how many peanut butter cups I was given. Was it an even ratio of Reeses to motorboat time?" Stiles asked, unable to help himself.

 

"Stiles, you'll remember eventually. Please don't bring it up again, or I'll have to claw Erica's face again," Lydia said sweetly.

 

" _Try to_ , you mean. You didn't get close enough last time," Erica said with a smirk.

 

"Stop flirting and get inside; you're letting all the cold air in," Derek called from the kitchen.

 

"That was flirting?"

 

Lydia pealed with laughter, then stepped back and let Erica inside. "Come on, before we give Stiles some very confused boners."

 

Erica kissed Lydia's cheek, then pressed a firm kiss to Stiles' lips, who pulled away with wide eyes. " _That_ was flirting, Batman," she said, winking before she walked inside.

 

"Jesus. I'm not going to survive this brunch with anything intact, am I?" Stiles asked Lydia with a whimper.

 

She smiled and kissed him, replacing Erica's scent and taste with her own. "You'll be fine."

 

"Brunch is ready," Derek said, tugging Stiles close to kiss, rubbing his stubbled cheek against Stiles' neck briefly. "There, now you'll be safe," he said with a smile.

 

"Speaking of safe. This is for you," Stiles said, pulling the talisman out of his pocket and putting it over Derek's head.

 

"Pink again, really?" he asked, sighing.

 

"Your manliness is still intact, I promise," Stiles said, ruffling Derek's hair. Stiles tucked the talisman under Derek's shirt, his fingers lingering for a moment.

 

"You have one for the others too?" Derek asked.

 

Stiles nodded. "Yeah, they're in the workshop."

 

"That's good; we'll give them out after brunch, okay?"

 

"Okay," Stiles agreed.

 

"Honestly, boys, you're leaving me alone in there with Erica and Boyd. You know what exhibitionists they are," Lydia said, grinning.

 

"That's because you're voyeurs," Erica called back, cackling.

 

"Well, she's right about that part," Lydia admitted, eyeing off Stiles and Derek in a way that could only be described as hungry.

 

"I think that confused boner's back," Stiles muttered, though he grinned when both Lydia and Erica laughed loudly and Derek shook his head at him.

 

"We'll deal with that later. If you want," Derek added in a whisper against his neck.

 

Stiles found that he did want. Very, very much.

 

Lydia winked at him, kissed him on the lips one more time, and then led both Derek and Stiles into the dining room where their guests were waiting. And apparently making out.

 

Erica had slipped a hand between herself and Boyd, and Stiles wasn't quite sure who she was touching, but they both seemed to be enjoying it. They stopped kissing after a moment, both breathing heavily. Erica grinned at Boyd, kissing him one more time before she looked to the other three.

 

"Are we having brunch or not?" she asked, smirking.

 

"Dammit, Erica," Derek growled, leaving to the kitchen to serve their food.

 

She just buried her head against Boyd's neck and laughed. Boyd looked so utterly pleased with himself - or perhaps about pleasing Erica - and just grinned, stroking her back.

 

"See what you're missing out on?" Erica cooed at Stiles, moving back to her own seat, though she swung her legs onto Boyd's lap easily a moment later.

 

"We can't handle more people in our relationship, Erica. We already have enough laundry to do," Lydia added, grinning.

 

"Who's talking about relationships?" she teased with a wink.

 

"No discussing orgies at the table! We have that rule in place for a reason," Derek called.

 

"Yeah, we also have a new table because of that reason," Lydia muttered, not quite under her breath, and Erica burst out laughing.

 

Derek came into the dining room carrying two towering plates of pancakes. "Waffles will be out in a minute. _Please_ stop talking," he added with a barely repressed groan as he left for the kitchen again.

 

Erica immediately served herself three pancakes, giggling through her first bite. Stiles took two pancakes for himself, noticing that both Boyd and Lydia were waiting for the waffles.

 

Derek returned a moment later, carrying two plates of waffles. Boyd waited until Lydia had served herself before grabbing his own and smothering them with syrup.

 

"So, what are you two up to this long weekend?" Boyd asked once half of his waffles were gone.

 

"Well, our plans have shifted somewhat, but we have a surprise planned for Stiles later," Lydia said.

 

"Ooh, I bet that's driving you nuts. Hey, where in 2015 do you remember? Like, is there a particular date or month your memory stops?" Erica asked curiously.

 

Stiles tried to think of what his last memory actually was. "It was pretty early in the year. Around May, I reckon."

 

"Ooh, then you wouldn't know about the Mets," Erica said.

 

"What? Did they lose? Or did they win? C'mon, don't leave me hanging like that!"

 

"They won the National League Division Series 3-2 against the Dodgers. They won National League Championship Series 4-0 to the Cubs. World Series..." Boyd trailed off for a long treacherous moment. "They lost 4-1 to the Royals."

 

"Shit," Stiles muttered sourly.

 

"They won the NLDS and the NLCS, be happy about that," Boyd said, shrugging.

 

"But the World Series! And to _Kansas City Royals?_ That's practically a crime," he groaned.

 

"Shut up and eat your pancake," Erica said with a grin.

 

Stiles poked his tongue out at her. Erica just laughed and grabbed another pancake.

 

Soufflés were served once everyone had eaten all of the waffles and pancakes. Stiles eagerly devoured his dessert, praising Derek and Lydia's cooking ability, both look ridiculously pleased at his fervent praise.

 

...

 

Lydia, Stiles, and Derek waved Erica and Boyd off after Stiles ensured they were wearing their talismans. The trio were silent as they watched the car's tail lights disappear.

 

"I love them, but sometimes I can't wait for them to leave. I'm awful for saying that, aren't I?" Lydia asked with a sigh, heading back inside to collapse on the couch in exhaustion.

 

"I don't think so; everyone needs alone time," Stiles mused, following her inside and sitting beside her, feeling a little overwhelmed by Erica and Boyd himself. (Mostly Erica.)

 

"I need it a lot sooner some days," Lydia murmured, tugging him down onto her lap.

 

She started to play with his hair almost immediately, and Stiles closed his eyes, calming down slowly. He heard Derek moving around, but didn't pay the noise much attention, even though they'd already cleared the dining room and stacked the dishwasher.

 

"Hey, Stiles. When did you last watch _Star Wars?_ " Derek asked, sitting beside him and putting Stiles' feet in his lap.

 

"Episode 4, 5, or 6?" he asked with a snort. _Never acknowledge the prequels._

 

"7, 8, and 9, actually."

 

Stiles opened his eyes slowly, a little confused, but his heart hammering in his chest as he looked between Derek and Lydia and took in their expressions of amusement and glee. "Are you shitting me? Please tell me you're not joking."

 

"Nope, not joking," Derek said, nodding towards the TV screen where the movie was already set up to play.

 

Stiles sat up properly, a lump in his throat. He looked between them and the TV, feeling as though he just might cry. They'd obviously watched the movies before, but they were going to watch them with him now just so he could watch them for the first time again.

 

"Are you all right?" Lydia asked, offering Stiles a box of tissues.

 

"I'm fine. Just... I get to watch them for the first time. Again," he took a few tissues, blew his nose and coughed throatily. "I love you guys."

 

"We know," Lydia and Derek chorused without hesitation, and they both leaned in to kiss his cheeks.

 

 _Fuck, I really do love them_ , Stiles realised. _We're married, so that's definitely a good thing_ , he thought with a grin.

 

"All right. I'm fine now. Let's watch _Star Wars_."

 

Derek and Lydia both took his hands, Derek waving his free hand to signal and un-mute the TV, sans remote. (Stiles took a moment to stare, because _holy shit_ technology was cool in the future.) The music started immediately, a swell and rise, and Stiles felt goosebumps rise on his arms in response. He squeezed Derek and Lydia's hands; he couldn't wait.

 

...

 

One movie, two bathroom breaks, and a tissue box later, Stiles was an absolute mess.

 

"How could I forget that? How? I... I..." he sobbed at the screen, speechless and useless.

 

Derek was actually leaching pain from him, and Lydia was scritching his scalp again. After a few minutes, Stiles felt a bit better. He cuddled into Derek and Lydia's arms.

 

"There had better be some damn good fanfiction to rectify that," he muttered.

 

"There is; you've bookmarked it," Lydia promised.

 

"Do you want the next one?" Derek asked.

 

Stiles sniffed and nodded. "It gets better, right?"

 

"You always say you have to watch these three in a row," Lydia offered, not wanting to spoil the movies.

 

"Then I'd better keep watching," he sighed.

 

Derek changed the discs over, and as he was watching this time, Stiles saw that they weren't normal DVD or Blu-Ray discs.

 

"Whoa, what is that made of? Is it crystal?" he asked, looking at the disc sparkling and throwing rainbows across the room.

 

"No, it's sort of like the hologram on your phone. Except not."

 

"Derek, you know better than to try to explain technology we didn't create," Lydia said with a smile, pressing a kiss to his lips as he sat back down next to Stiles.

 

Derek hummed in agreement, kissing Lydia for a moment longer. Between them, Stiles tried to signal the TV like Derek had done earlier. Music blared at them immediately, Stiles going bright red as Derek and Lydia tore apart.

 

"Sorry."

 

Lydia laughed and kissed his cheek. On his other side, Derek nuzzled against his neck.

 

"We'll show you all the hand movements later," Lydia promised, signalling for the music to go to a lower setting.

 

"They're mostly _Harry Potter_ wand movements now; at the start, you thought it would be fun to create them in the style of _Avatar: The Last Airbender_. We lost the TV within a week," Derek added.

 

"Was that my fault?" Stiles asked, wincing.

 

"Mine, actually. You try doing the Earth-bender kick with stilettos on," Lydia muttered.

 

"I think I'll pass, thanks."

 

Derek snorted, then indicated for the movie to start playing.

 

Stiles snuggled in between Derek and Lydia, his attention rapt on the screen.

 

...

 

After six hours, three bathroom breaks, two popcorn refills, and about ten minutes on pause for Stiles to freak out at a particular ship becoming canon, the _Star Wars_ marathon was over.

 

Lydia and Derek had looked fondly amused at Stiles' freak out, and currently wore the same expressions at his current state of excitement, though they also looked tired. Realising the time, Stiles wasn't surprised at their exhaustion. He wondered what living with him between those three movies would have been like. On some level, Stiles wasn't even sure he didn't just freak out every other day while waiting for the sequels; _how on earth did Lydia and Derek put up with him like that?!_ He asked them as much, and Lydia snorted in amusement.

 

"By the time the second movie came out, we were so busy with college and planning Alpha Industries, we didn't even see it on opening night," Lydia said, shaking her head. "We saw it three times on the weekend, though."

 

"We made it up to you on opening night for the third movie. If you put the disc away, you'll see what I mean," Derek added, clearing up the bowls and glasses.

 

Lydia grinned, sitting up expectantly and watching Stiles for his response. Stiles was a little surprised at her eagerness, but took the disc out of the PS8 (apparently 5 was skipped because too many people wrote an 'i' between P and S) and opened the cover to put it away. A photograph was in the cover, facing so it could only be seen once the disc's cover was opened. Lydia was dressed as General Leia in her blue dress, Derek as an older Han Solo, and standing between them was Stiles dressed as Old Man Luke, complete with beard and metal hand.

 

"Wow. How'd that even work? I swear, I can't even see my real hand," Stiles said, looking from the cover to his hand, just to be sure.

 

"Holographic wrist band. Scared the shit out of people who didn't know what it was. Some random person thought you were a Terminator robot and spent a good ten minutes hiding in the bathroom before I could convince them it was fake. You then spent another five minutes showing off the wrist band to everyone in the theatre," Lydia said, grinning.

 

"You have to admit, sales went up by almost 90% overnight," Derek called from the kitchen.

 

"We had to pay therapy bills for people, Derek," Lydia called back.

 

"Two people. They needed it anyway," he answered, returning to the lounge room with three mugs.

 

"Chamomile tea; it helps you calm down after a movie marathon. Trust me, you need it, or else we'll find you in a wiki spiral at 3am again," Lydia said.

 

"It's almost 3am anyway," Stiles said with a grin, but he took the offered mug of tea when Lydia just raised an eyebrow at him.

 

"You didn't see the other photo," Derek said in realisation, setting his tea down on the coaster carefully before getting out the previous movie's case. He opened it and passed the case to Stiles.

 

Stiles grinned on seeing them dressed as their characters again: Lydia as Leia, Derek as Han, and himself as Luke - though this time, they were all younger versions, circa episode 3. Lydia suited white and side-buns surprisingly well; and Derek's outfit hadn't really changed, though he didn't have salt and pepper hair this time around; Stiles' own outfit as Luke was as a pilot, rather than the Tatooine one he expected.

 

"We do have another photo, but that one's private," Lydia informed him, winking when he looked up at her.

 

"Naked, not slave," Derek added.

 

Stiles' mouth hung open as he stared at them. " _Naked_ cosplay? Is that even a thing?"

 

Derek almost snorted out his tea.

 

"Lightsabers were very strategically placed," Lydia said lightly, sipping at her tea.

 

Stiles didn't really know how to answer that without gaping and/or gushing, so he took a leaf from Lydia's book and drank his tea. He hoped that the low light wouldn't show the blush on his cheeks. A few minutes later, Lydia took the mugs to the kitchen.

 

Stiles yawned widely. "That tea actually worked," he murmured tiredly and surprised.

 

"Of course it did; you dried the chamomile yourself," Derek said, smiling. "Would you like me to carry you upstairs?"

 

"Yes. Please," he added quickly.

 

Derek stood and held out his arms. Stiles hugged him, unsure of how the logistics of this would actually work. Derek pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, eased Stiles' arms down, then lifted him up and over his shoulder.

 

"You need to relax or you'll hit your head on the doorway," Lydia said, as if it was something that they'd learned the hard way.

 

Stiles relaxed the best he could, bent over Derek's shoulder awkwardly and kind of staring at his ass.

 

"You can grab on if you want to," Derek offered as he started walking out of the lounge and to the stairs.

 

" _What?_ " Stiles squeaked.

 

"He means his shirt, dearest," Lydia said, still watching with amusement.

 

"Right. I knew that," Stiles said, and Derek didn't contradict him despite hearing the skip in his heartbeat.

 

Lydia just laughed and followed them upstairs.

 

Derek deposited Stiles on the bed and left to brush his teeth, Lydia staying with Stiles this time as he dressed into his pyjamas. He thought he had some idea of what they were doing - keeping him company while he changed so he could get used to being around them - but Stiles didn't know if it was his benefit or their own.

 

"We always get changed at the same time?" he asked, his voice muffled as he slipped his Avengers shirt on.

 

"As often as possible, yes. You claim you like to look at us, Derek likes to make sure we're okay, and I just like watching my two very handsome husbands undress," Lydia said with a broad smile.

 

"I know I'm not exactly cut from the same material as you and Derek," Stiles murmured, looking at his gangly legs before pulling his soft pyjama pants on.

 

Before he could tie them off, Lydia had pushed him back onto the bed and straddled his waist in a matter of seconds. She stared down at him, half determination and half glare. "You are beautiful, Stiles. We went through two years of this before you believed us, but we'll go through it all over again if we have to. You are beautiful and gorgeous, and we love you. We love you no matter what you look like, or what you think you look like, because to us you're more beautiful than anything.

 

"You're Sunday morning pancakes and _Star Wars_ and loving us and making me feel better after a visit with my dad and keeping Derek sane every month and every moment he's reminded of his family. You're our anchor, you keep us together, and we love everything about you. We adore every inch of you," she said, voice fierce, trembling, and as full of emotion as her eyes.

 

Stiles bit his lip, wanting to argue, wanting to brush her words off, but there was a part of him that couldn't do that. Not when Lydia looked as though she meant every single word and then some. He didn't have to believe her, not yet - it was too hard to get past so many years of self-doubt, after all - but Stiles also found that he couldn't bring himself to deny her words either. He nodded briefly. Lydia collapsed on top of him, hugging him tightly. Stiles hugged her in return, fragile and hesitant, his hands trembling as he rested them on her back. He could hear her whispering soft words of love under her breath, but wasn't sure if he was meant to hear them or even respond. He wasn't sure that he could, anyway.

 

"If you had your memory, we'd show you that we meant every word. Lydia still has her lipstick," Derek said as he returned from the ensuite.

 

Remembering the conversation about his moles and lipstick, Stiles blushed. Lydia pressed a kiss to the curve of his shoulder before she sat up again.

 

"I'm tempted to show you anyway; I still don't think you truly believe me," Lydia murmured, stroking his cheek.

 

Still not wanting to contradict her - at least, not out loud - Stiles just shrugged.

 

"I'm going to check the perimeter. I'll be back soon," Derek said, hugging Lydia around her body and pressing a kiss to her neck. He squeezed Stiles' hand before leaving the bedroom.

 

"Hey, Lydia? Where's Derek's talking stick?" Stiles asked once he heard the front door close.

 

"I saw it in the kitchen pantry earlier; it should still be there," she replied, sounding curious as she stood once more.

 

"I'll be right back," Stiles said, rushing out before she could question or stop him.

 

As Stiles' letter and Lydia had said, the talking stick was in the pantry, hidden at the back of the top shelf where Stiles had to stretch to grab it. He couldn't help but take a moment to grin at the pink glittery stick before going back upstairs with it in hand. He stopped short in the doorway.

 

"Everything all right?" Lydia asked, tugging her nightie down over her head, her breasts, her thighs.

 

Stiles nodded, his cheeks red. He tried valiantly not to stare.

 

"Are you sure?" she asked, frowning slightly. Lydia sat on the bed and held a hand out for him.

 

Stiles shuffled forward, taking her hand with his free one, the talking stick tapping against his leg nervously. Lydia didn't press him for an answer, moving to kneel on the mattress and hugging him, her fingers tangled in his hair as she scratched his scalp lightly. Stiles wanted to tell her how much he liked her doing that - even though he figured she already knew - but sighed into the crook of her neck instead, his eyes closing.

 

He heard Derek return to the bedroom some time later. Lydia didn't stop her ministrations, and she was humming something under her breath that he couldn't quite recognise, despite being pressed to her neck. Derek moved behind Stiles carefully, footsteps hesitant, and he grabbed the talking stick from Stiles' loose grip.

 

"Is it for me?" he asked, voice soft in the dark around them.

 

Stiles shook his head the best he could. "For me."

 

Lydia pulled away as his words registered, and Stiles almost made a keening sound as her hand left his scalp. "I can keep going while you talk, if you'd like?" she offered, almost hesitant, as if she wasn't sure he'd want her touch.

 

Stiles moved in against her neck, hoping he wouldn't accidentally smack her in the dark. "I'd like that."

 

He reached out for Derek, who mistook his intent and passed him the talking stick instead.

 

"Not that; _you_ , sourwolf," Stiles said, transferring the stick to his other hand before reaching out for Derek again.

 

Derek didn't hesitate, taking Stiles' hand in his own and pressing up against him. Stiles stayed quiet for a long moment, feeling Derek's heart beating hard and fast. He tried to keep his emotions steady, to show them both that nothing was wrong, and Stiles waited until Derek's heartbeat returned to its usual slower pace.

 

"Okay. Just... uh, bear with me, okay?" he said, licking his lips.

 

"Of course," Lydia replied softly, one of her hands in his hair and the other holding Derek by the back of the neck, steadying him and helping him to relax.

 

"I'm kind of freaking out a little," Stiles said finally.

 

Lydia paused for a moment before resuming. Neither she nor Derek asked Stiles questions, probably knowing that he'd continue without prompting.

 

"I mean, this whole thing is brand new to me, and some part of me thinks it's all just a dream or a trap, or something's gone wrong with my brain. I don't even know, but I do know that I don't know how I managed to date - let alone _marry_ both of you. Or, ceremony you. Whatever. But I kind of think that I'm falling in love with you again, and not just because of _Star Wars_ , though that's pretty damn high on the list of reasons why. Well, again for me, not again for the Stiles you know and love. I mean, we're both the same person, kinda, but at the same time not?"

 

Stiles clenched his teeth tightly, realising that he was going off on a tangent, and tried to desperately think to get back on topic.

 

"I'm freaking out because I'm making the pack vulnerable. I don't have my memory, I don't have any way of keeping everyone safe, except for these talismans - and I don't even know what the fuck they even do - and I'm making the pack weak. I never want you guys - or any of the others - to be weak because of me. I want you all to be safe and happy, 'cause fuck knows we've all been through enough shit already to 18-year-old me, and whatever else happened from then to 28-year-old-me too. You both deserve to be safe and happy, and I shouldn't make you vulnerable like this. I just... I hate feeling helpless, and it's making me freak out."

 

Derek pressed himself against Stiles' back, nudging and pushing carefully until they were all lying back on the mattress, Stiles sandwiched between himself and Lydia.

 

"You're not weak, and you don't make us weak. _Never_ that," Derek promised, peppering kisses to his back.

 

"You guys have been dating me longer than I've been dating you. You need to tell me if I fuck up, okay?" Stiles said, one more fear admitted in the dark.

 

"We'll still love you, Stiles. We always will, even if you fuck up. Which you haven't done yet, so it's not likely at this point," Derek added practically.

 

"Derek's right. The only thing you need to remember is not to eat my chocolate, avoid Derek's protein juices because they make you gassy, and to only tell us you love us when you mean it. In the morning, you can read your emissary journal. It's your shorthand version of everything you've learnt," Lydia added.

 

Stiles rolled his eyes at himself because _of course_ he had a journal.

 

"Derek? As comforting as this is, I'm losing feeling in my legs," Lydia said.

 

Derek apologised immediately, rearranging them so Lydia wasn't folded in half awkwardly, then plastered himself on top of Stiles again.

 

Feeling emotionally exhausted and drained, Stiles fell asleep between Lydia and Derek without even meaning to.

 

...

 

"... No, he's sleeping. ... He's adjusting as well as can be expected. ... Okay, I'll let him know. ... Thanks for calling, Marin."

 

Stiles blinked wearily as Lydia ended the call, looking over to her. He sat up, far more alert, when he saw she was dressed in a short silk robe and nothing else, and was carrying a tray of food. "Is everything all right?" he asked.

 

Lydia sighed, shook her head, and set the tray down in front of Stiles. He had a Pop Tart, some fruit, something that looked like yoghurt, and a milky coffee. Two books were sitting on the tray as well. Lydia sat across from him and picked at the fruit. Stiles eagerly ate the Pop Tart, amazed that the taste still hadn't changed.

 

"Marin's been held up. Literally, in fact. Now she's dealing with a police officer who's as stubborn as a mule and doesn't believe her story about her attacker's concussion, especially considering the contents of her car. It seems that some Druidic ingredients can be mistaken for illegal substances," Lydia said, rolling her eyes. "She'll be here on Wednesday, as early as possible."

 

"What actually happened with her attacker?" Stiles asked, swallowing his mouthful.

 

"She used a powder to make him walk into a wall, I think. It's difficult to talk in code while a police officer's sitting right there," she added with a brief frown. "And Marin promised to turn him into an actual mule if he doesn't let her leave the station by this evening. Or a toad, I'm not too sure."

 

"She can do that?" Stiles asked dubiously.

 

"I'm still not sure about everything Marin can and cannot do; honestly, it wouldn't surprise me if she could," Lydia said.

 

"All right. What if she doesn't make it by Wednesday? A few more days won't be too bad, right?" Stiles asked hesitantly, but Lydia already started to shake her head.

 

"Alpha Industries has a meeting on Tuesday afternoon with our biggest international client. Derek can't handle it on his own, and as the clients are familiar with you, they've requested that you present the deal to them via video-link personally. We'd usually reschedule, but with the end of financial year coming up, and how long we've spent trying to secure the deal, it might fall through if this doesn't happen on Tuesday..."

 

"You want _me_ to make a _business presentation? Internationally?!_ " Stiles asked, his voice barely a squeak of terror.

 

"You're much better at presenting now," Lydia offered.

 

"Yeah, _now,_ maybe! But 18-year-old me _fainted_ at giving a ten-minute presentation to a class of people I knew! I don't know these people! What if they ask me questions that I'm supposed to know the answers to, but I don't know the answers?!" His panic made his vision go spotty, darkness creeping in.

 

"Stiles, _breathe_."

 

The command came from the doorway, Derek sweaty after his morning run and response to Stiles' growing distress as he came home. His eyes were Alpha red, the tone to his voice making Stiles immediately respond. Stiles gasped his breaths in for a few moments, his vision returning to normal as oxygen filled his lungs.

 

"Better?" Lydia asked, sounding worried, even as she rubbed his back gently.

 

"You sure it can't be rescheduled?" Stiles asked.

 

He had faced down rabid werewolves and kanimas, and yet the idea of public speaking (or video speaking, whatever this was) made him break out in a terrified sweat.

 

"We already asked, back when we thought you weren't going to get your memory for three weeks, but Deucalion has the same deadlines we do," Derek said. "He offered to let me do the presentation, but you've dealt with Deucalion and his associates the most; they wouldn't respond well to a new person dealing with them at the last minute."

 

"Wait, Deucalion? As in, Alpha pack leader, _Destroyer of Worlds_ Deucalion?"

 

Lydia winced. "Probably best not to bring that name up in the presentation. Deucalion's trying to make amends for what he did in the past, and bringing up that name, even in conversation, is detrimental."

 

"Whose bright idea was it to offer him a second chance anyway?" Stiles scoffed.

 

Derek and Lydia glanced at each other briefly before Derek answered. "Scott."

 

"Why am I not surprised? Seriously, Scott could have his intestines wrapped around his throat and he'd probably bend over backwards to make it easier for his attacker."

 

"That's oddly specific, and yet I could believe it happening," Lydia said, shaking her head. "However, in this case, it's actually worked out. Deucalion is a surprisingly good businessman and employer."

 

"You checked yourself," Derek added.

 

"How?" Stiles asked, both suspicious and curious.

 

"We visited his new pack and business in London, and you did a fly on the wall spell," Lydia replied. "It's undetectable, and you use it for regular checks on Deucalion, among others that have caused problems over the years. It listens to conversations and also gauges emotion, so if someone was terrified of Deucalion but were forced to say good things, you'd know they were lying."

 

"Huh. Okay, I guess that works."

 

"Of course it does, you designed it," Lydia said, sounding offended on his behalf.

 

" _Shit_ ," Stiles cursed under his breath. "All right, I'll do it. It may not be any good, but I'll give it a shot. What do I need to know?"

 

Lydia picked up the two Moleskin journals from the tray and handed them to him. "The red one is your business one, the blue one is your emissary journal. You should only need the red for this, but I did promise to give the emissary one to you," she said with a brief smile. "Ask us any questions, okay?"

 

"You sure about that, Lydia?"

 

Lydia smiled properly now, and leaned over to press a firm kiss to his lips. "Positive. You can ask us anything, Stiles," she said.

 

"Thanks," he said, smiling at them broadly.

 

"We'll leave you to start reading. Call out if you need us," Derek offered, tugging Lydia out of the bedroom.

 

"Derek, I'm not dressed."

 

"We're not expecting company, Lyds. You can walk around naked if you want."

 

Stiles grinned at their banter, then opened his business journal and sat back on the bed to start reading.

 

...

 

"Why didn't you tell me we made the phone hologram thing?" Stiles called out about an hour later.

 

"We designed it; it was actually made by Mahealani Tech," Derek called back.

 

"Derek, your mouth is right next to my ear," Lydia pointed out.

 

"Sorry, dearest."

 

Stiles thought that Derek's apology sounded kind of muffled, but he didn't think much of it, returning to his journal.

 

Half an hour passed by, and this time, when Stiles thought of another question, he decided to ask Lydia and Derek face-to-face instead of yelling through the house. Marking his page, Stiles carried the journal out of the bedroom, rubbing his sore ass from sitting for so long.

 

The kitchen and lounge room were both empty, so Stiles wandered through the quiet house to the library. He doubted they'd be outside without letting him know, and besides, Stiles was pretty sure he would've heard the door.

 

Stiles opened the library door and stopped short, staring. He completely forgot what he had wanted to ask Lydia and Derek.

 

Lydia was sitting on the library's window seat, her eyes closed, her short robe hanging off one shoulder, the material parted to reveal the inner curves of her breasts. Derek was kneeling between her legs, his head moving with movements that made it all too obvious what he was doing. Lydia's legs were resting over his shoulders, her feet pressing against his back firmly, and she was scratching at Derek's scalp, just as she'd done for Stiles time and time again.

 

Stiles wondered if the scalp scratching drew a Pavlovian response from him when he didn't have amnesia; he breathed in sharply at the thought, as if he could taste Lydia on his lips right then and there.

 

Derek must have heard Stiles's soft intake of breath and given Lydia some sort of signal, because she opened her eyes lazily and smiled over at him. "Like what you see?"

 

Wordlessly, and his mouth hanging open, Stiles nodded. Lydia held a hand out for him, indicating for him to join them. Stiles licked his dry lips and moved forward, the journal gripped tightly in his hand.

 

"Don't worry, we'll only bite if you ask us nicely, Stiles," Lydia said, looking amused at his white-knuckled grip.

 

Vaguely, Stiles thought he smiled and nodded in return. Finally, he was standing right behind Derek, his legs bracketing the werewolf carefully. He dropped the journal to the seat next to Lydia, and then took Lydia's outstretched hand, wondering exactly what she was going to do.

 

Lydia pressed a kiss to the palm of his hand, then another against his fingertips. Her tongue flicked out against his fingertips lightly, Stiles' knees feeling weak. Then Lydia shrugged off one shoulder of her robe entirely, and without waiting for a response, she moved his hand so it cupped her exposed breast.

 

"Breathe, Stiles," she said, voice soft yet firm, drawing his attention away from her peaked pink nipple and the slight weight resting in his palm.

 

Her hand wrapped around his, squeezing their fingers around her breast gently, and Stiles breathed again.

 

Derek grabbed Stiles' free hand, his fingers wet from Lydia or his tongue, Stiles didn't know, but Derek's touch calmed the impending panic attack. Some part of his brain was thinking, ' _if only 15-year-old me could see me now_ ' because at 15, Stiles would have _maimed_ someone to just have Lydia speak to him; but holding her breast and watching her being eaten out? He probably would have _killed_ for even a glimpse of that.

 

"It's all right, Stiles. We're right here. You're okay?" Lydia asked, her breathless tone replaced with worry.

 

"F-fine. Just... wow."

 

Lydia seemed reassured once more. She smiled and squeezed his hand around her breast again. "You're handling this a bit better than our first time."

 

"Do I want to know?" he asked with a wince.

 

"You tried to get out of your pants and shirt at the same time, fell over, hit your head on the side table, and almost ended up with a concussion. I administered first aid in the form of a Mickey Mouse band-aid, and you tried to make a naughty nurse joke which almost resulted in an actual concussion. Then Derek freaked out, thinking you had an internal injury, so we spent the rest of the night spooning while he leached your pain."

 

Between Lydia's legs, Derek must have tried to protest. Lydia's hand tightened in his hair briefly, and she smiled down at him. "You can argue with me after my third orgasm."

 

Experimentally, Stiles circled a thumb over Lydia's nipple. He heard her intake of surprise, Lydia obviously not expecting him to do more than hold her breast. Stiles grinned a bit at the assumption; _he was_ consensually _holding Lydia's breast, and she didn't think he'd take advantage of the opportunity to learn everything about said breast as he could?_ He ran his thumb over her nipple again, and Lydia sighed this time, looking extremely pleased with herself as her hand fell to her side.

 

"Let me know when you're ready for both," Lydia murmured, closing her eyes, her hips bucking gently against Derek's face.

 

Stiles eyed the curve of her other breast, peaking out from under her robe, and breathed in shakily. Keeping his concentration on his hand and Lydia's breast, Stiles tried not to get too distracted by the sight of Derek eating out Lydia like she was his favourite taste ever. Stiles trailed his fingertips along the underside of Lydia's breast, tracing the curve slowly and watching as goosebumps followed after his fingertips. He grinned and caressed her soft skin before moving to tweak at her pebbled nipple, a light red flush spreading across her exposed torso. Stiles was so focused on watching Lydia's skin respond that he didn't realise her breathing had become shallow, her toes curling against Derek's back, and as he continued to tease her breast and nipple, Lydia screamed her third orgasm.

 

Stiles' ears were ringing and he tried not to stagger back. Derek and Lydia both reached for him, holding him steady, upright, and slowly, Stiles' hearing returned.

 

"Sorry, I couldn't keep that one in," Lydia apologised, looking concerned at the pale pallor of Stiles' face.

 

"You always scream?"

 

"Mostly. It's a good way to help release excess banshee energy. I usually try to warn you both before I scream though," she added, stroking his forearm gently. "Are you okay now?"

 

Stiles nodded, calmer now and colour returning to his face again.

 

"I didn't freak out," Derek stated, sounding both petulant and breathless.

 

"When?" Stiles asked, frowning.

 

"Our first time," Lydia reminded him. "You definitely freaked out. You wanted to call Melissa to get her to check Stiles over for concussion."

 

"I was concerned," Derek argued.

 

"You were freaking out. Besides, it was past midnight, and Melissa had just finished a double shift. She probably would've poisoned you with mistletoe," Lydia said, rolling her eyes.

 

Derek winced and nodded briefly. Then he looked up at Stiles and smiled brightly. "I made you something."

 

Stiles, distracted by the shiny, wet scruff around Derek's mouth, blinked and looked at him properly. "Huh?"

 

Lydia laughed, pulled Derek up to her and made out with him messily, lips and tongue. Then, before Stiles could even attempt to recover from _that_ , she tugged Stiles' pyjama shirt to get him down to her level, and kissed him as well. Stiles shivered as he tasted Lydia, the taste of her sweet and musky on his tongue. He cupped her cheeks as they kissed, and Lydia pulled him down to straddle her lap properly. Stiles could feel her body pressed against his, warm and soft. Derek made a noise behind them, a mix of want and longing, and Stiles let go of Lydia's face to reach back for him. He expected hand holding, maybe hugging like they'd done the night before, but instead, Derek pressed a few light kisses to Stiles' fingertips before taking three fully in his mouth.

 

" _Fuck_ ," Stiles breathed, pulling away to look back at Derek.

 

He had his eyes closed and was sucking Stiles' fingers like it was his favourite past-time. Lydia slipped a hand under Stiles' shirt, taking care not to hit his bruised and scraped body, and tugged his nipples firmly. He looked at her, torn between who to look at.

 

"Derek loves sucking on your fingers. As well as your dick. I think they're only second to rimming you."

 

"Mmph mm mml."

 

"Don't talk with your mouth full, dearest," Lydia said, grinning over Stiles' shoulder at Derek.

 

Derek pulled off Stiles' fingers with an indecently wet _pop_ , and Stiles buried his face in the crook of Lydia's neck so his whimper would be muffled.

 

"It's the mole," Derek repeated.

 

Lydia hummed, her fingers in Stiles' hair as she stroked his scalp lightly. "If Stiles were naked, I'm sure you could show him what you meant," she said.

 

Stiles stiffened against her, not sure if he'd heard her right. _Sure, they were married, and they were making out with him and, y'know, sucking his fingers, but they actually wanted to have sex with him?!_

 

"You'd do that?" he asked, eyes wide.

 

"Hell yes," Derek said immediately.

 

"O-okay. I'm just... I mean... I want, but... I don't know if..."

 

"I've already had three orgasms, I'm happy to watch," Lydia cut in, seemingly knowing what he was trying to express. "Can I keep scratching your scalp? I like doing that."

 

"So do I," Stiles said, pressing a firm kiss to her lips.

 

Lydia was smiling happily when he pulled away. Feeling emboldened, Stiles stood and shucked off his pyjamas pants and briefs in one swift movement. Not entirely sure how this would work, Stiles stood there awkwardly, his moment of confidence slipping away.

 

"Sit with me," Lydia offered, patting the seat beside her.

 

Stiles sat down, tugging on the hem of his shirt and wondering if he should have taken it off as well. Lydia took his hand in her own, pressed a light kiss to his knuckles, and then started to run her fingers through his hair. Derek shuffled forward on his knees, kissing Stiles' knee, his thigh, his stomach, his hip.

 

"Thought you were going to rim me?" Stiles asked, a little nervous.

 

"I'll get there. I thought it'd be a good idea to calm you down first," Derek replied, stopping and waiting for a response.

 

"Oh. Yeah, okay. That'd be good," Stiles replied, his cheeks red.

 

Lydia kissed his red cheek lightly. "We'll stop any time you want, okay? We want you to be comfortable and happy, Stiles, no matter what."

 

"Okay," he breathed, trying to calm his racing heart.

 

He concentrated on breathing for a moment, clutching at the padded fabric beneath him, then slowly relaxed his hands, his shoulders, the rest of his body following suit. "All right. I'm ready."

 

Derek smiled and reached up to take Stiles' hand in his own, threading their fingers together. Lydia covered their hands with her own, then used her free hand to card her fingers through Stiles' hair. Stiles felt his heart bursting with love at their sweet actions. For the first time since waking up in the hospital, Stiles truly believed that Derek and Lydia could actually love him, skinny and scrawny and sarcastic as he was. He had no idea what he'd done to deserve their love, but he was so glad he had.

 

"I-I love you both," he said, feeling nervous all over again.

 

Lydia's hand paused, Derek's lips left his inner thigh, and Stiles felt himself blush bright red as they looked at him.

 

"You mean it," Derek said, sounding almost surprised.

 

Stiles nodded firmly. "I do."

 

"I love you," Lydia said, her voice certain, then she kissed his cheek.

 

"I love you," Derek said, pressing a kiss to Stiles' knee.

 

"Okay, can you just... stop looking at me now? I'm freaking out again," Stiles admitted. "But don't stop. Please."

 

Lydia rested her head against his shoulder and watched Derek, smiling fondly. Stroking Stiles' hair was difficult in this position, so she played with his hand instead, light strokes against his fingers and brushing against his inner wrist. Derek kissed his way around Stiles' body, sometimes making patterns with his moles, other times just kissing his more sensitive areas. Stiles was trembling by the time Derek decided to actually start rimming him, and was easily moved to a bent position over the window seat. Stiles breathed shallowly, his head resting against the seat, his legs shaking. Lydia took the opportunity to start scratching at his scalp and stroking her fingers through his hair again.

 

"You're both killing me here," Stiles groaned.

 

Derek looked smug at Stiles' announcement, and Lydia couldn't help but feel the same way. It had been too long since they'd had the time to spend taking Stiles apart like this; the last long weekend had been focused on their work and studies, and they'd barely had time to watch a movie together. She sighed softly, her fingers tracing the sensitive shell of Stiles' ear and smiling when he bit his lip in response.

 

Derek spread Stiles' cheeks apart firmly, then blew a cool breath over Stiles' asshole. Stiles groaned into the seat, and Lydia poked Derek's stubbled cheek with her toe.

 

"You heard Stiles: _stop teasing_."

 

Derek just grinned and pressed a kiss to his favourite mole.

 

"Is that - ?" Stiles asked, cutting off with a low moan as Derek licked a stripe along his ass.

 

"Yes, that was your ass-mole," Lydia answered.

 

" _Ass-mole_ , heh," Stiles said, grinning up at her.

 

Lydia rolled her eyes, but a grin tugged at the edge of her mouth. She started stroking his hair again, watching as Derek licked at Stiles' ass again and again. _So much for not teasing him_ , she mused.

 

Stiles whimpered as Derek started to probe his hole with his tongue. Despite her earlier assurances to Stiles, Lydia found that three orgasms weren't quite enough after all. She slipped a hand between her legs, teasing at her labia, still wet from Derek's mouth and her earlier orgasms.

 

"Lyds, let me," Stiles said, blinking up at her from behind long lashes.

 

She nodded, taking her hand away. Before she could clean her fingers, Stiles grabbed her wrist gently and licked them clean instead. He had to pause for breath a few times when Derek started to blow on his hole again, his eyes fluttering closed as he tried to compose himself. Lydia started stroking his hair as soon as her fingers were clean, and Stiles shivered in pleasure when she tugged firmly every now and then.

 

They moved so Stiles was settled between her legs comfortingly. He took a moment to breathe in her scent, trying to psych himself up. He'd never gone down on a girl - or anyone for that matter - when he was 18, so he had no idea if he'd be any good at this. He hoped he was, or had at least improved with age. Still, Stiles wasn't going to pass up this opportunity just because of a few nerves. He licked his lips and then moved forward the last few centimetres to give a tentative lick. The taste was the same as the one he'd kissed from her lips and licked from her fingers, though he could smell Derek's scent between her legs as well. Stiles licked along her wet labia, and Lydia breathed in sharply, her hand tightening in his hair. He took it as a good sign; if he did something she didn't like, he was positive she'd tell him. He tried to remember what Derek had done, what he had seen from the angle above them, and then tried to think of what the women had done in the porn he watched. _Thigh kissing was good, right?_ Experimentally, he pulled back to kiss her inner thighs.

 

"You can bite too," Lydia murmured, tugging at his hair encouragingly.

 

Stiles bit down on the soft skin gently, soothing the mark with his lips and tongue. Lydia hummed contently as he experimented to find what would make her sigh, what would make her hand tighten in his hair, or her legs squeeze around his head. Stiles got so caught up in cataloguing Lydia's responses to every lick, touch, and bite that he almost forgot to breathe.

 

Vaguely, he could feel his body trembling as Derek lifted him slightly to get further against his ass. The combination of Derek's stubble against his sensitive ass, his tongue licking and probing, and the odd tugging at his hair from Lydia, made Stiles feel like they really were killing him. _At least it was the slow and sexy kind of killing_. He wondered if it felt like this every time they had sex, where they both couldn't wait to touch him and kiss him and love him in some way. He certainly hoped so.

 

Derek held his cheeks open, Stiles' legs spreading to accommodate him the best way he could, and Derek licked and tongued his hole until Stiles felt like weeping. He moaned against Lydia's clit and her thighs practically clamped shut around his head. _Okay, moaning was definitely good_.

 

He tried to concentrate on Lydia, but Derek was obviously reaching his own tipping point because he was holding Stiles up by his thighs with his legs actually resting on Derek's shoulders. Stiles was practically parallel to the ground, and he had a fleeting thought about _planking,_ of all things. The thought was gone in the next second, when Derek's hand wrapped around his cock, and Stiles had to pull away from Lydia just to concentrate on breathing.

 

"Shit-shit-fuck," he cursed, a mantra wrenching out of him as Derek practically stripped him raw and Stiles, _oh fuck_ , Stiles loved every second of it.

 

He didn't last long after that, practically crying out his orgasm into Lydia's lap as Derek finished jerking his cock, overly sensitive with aftershocks and making his whole body tremble. Stiles whited out completely, and when he came to, he was curled up between Derek and Lydia on the window seat. They were both kissing him in various places. Stiles felt love spread out from his stomach, warming him over, and burning where their lips touched his skin. He licked his lips, trying to remember how to talk.

 

"Derek, you're... Lydia, I didn't..." he managed, the words thick and slurred in his mouth.

 

"We're fine, Stiles. Sex doesn't automatically mean an orgasm," Derek said matter-of-factly, as if he'd said it multiple times before.

 

"Mmkay. You sure?" he asked, because he'd watched _a lot_ of porn, and they all had orgasms.

 

"Sometimes sex is just to show love, Stiles. And we love you," Lydia promised, kissing his lips lightly.

 

"You had three orgasms," he said, frowning.

 

"That's because Derek really, really loves me," she said with a laugh.

 

"I'd give you three orgasms too, if it was possible," Derek promised, his lips against the curve of Stiles' neck.

 

"Okay. Two more orgasms later then," Stiles said, grinning.

 

"Gladly."

 

They cuddled on the window seat, touching and kissing him as Stiles came down from his orgasm slowly. He hoped that his future self knew just how lucky he was to have this kind of love all the time.

 

"Oh, hey. What did you make me?" Stiles asked, looking at Derek.

 

Derek took a moment to remember what Stiles was talking about, then he smiled. "I'll go get it," he said, leaving without waiting for a response.

 

Lydia sighed happily and curled herself around Stiles completely, draping herself over his back. "You're amazing, Stiles. We're so lucky to have you," she murmured, pressing soft kisses along his jawline.

 

"I feel pretty lucky myself," he admitted, taking her hand and threading their fingers together.

 

When Derek returned a moment later, Stiles and Lydia were sitting facing each other, his hands cupping both of Lydia's breasts as they talked conversationally. Derek held his hands behind his back and stood by the window seat patiently.

 

"If it's food, can you feed it to me?" Stiles asked, opening his mouth.

 

Derek just shook his head. He moved to sit behind Lydia, resting his head on her shoulder, the present still hidden behind him.

 

"I'd be fine with you swapping. Stiles, you know it's going to drive you nuts until you find out what the present is," Lydia added.

 

"Swapping how?" Derek asked, frowning.

 

Lydia winked at Stiles, then removed one of his hands, reached back for Derek and placed his hand on her breast instead. "There, swapped."

 

Stiles hummed thoughtfully. "On the one hand, there's an unknown present. On the other, Lydia's breast."

 

"Tough decision," Derek agreed sagely.

 

Stiles squeezed Lydia's breast gently, then moved forward until his mouth was brushing up against her nipple. "Make sure you love me more."

 

Lydia laughed and pushed his head away. "You're such a dork," she said fondly, pulling him back to kiss him.

 

As they kissed, Derek placed his gift in Stiles' hand and cupped Lydia's bare breast. Stiles barely refrained from pulling away immediately to discover what his present was. Lydia pulled away, licking her lips, and Stiles tried to calm his love-stupid heart from pitter-pattering at just how happy and content she looked. He'd never seen her look so relaxed in high school, and Stiles kind of adored that he and Derek could see the real Lydia without her armour against the world. He pressed one more kiss to her lips briefly, and then looked down at the small square that Derek had placed in his hand.

 

"Uh, thanks. What is it?" he asked, seeing it wasn't wrapped or a box of any sort.

 

Lydia grinned and took the square from his palm gently. She pressed the centre button to turn the strange device on, and then placed it flat on her open palm to demonstrate. "Muse, begin list 42," she said clearly.

 

At her words, the small square lit up in a bright blue. A list appeared, similar to his phone with the holographic text, but this one only shown on the face of the square itself. It scrolled through several folders and the light blinked as list 42 was selected. Music surrounded them, speakers hidden above the bookshelves, with separate speakers at each of their work desks. A few piano chords begun, and Stiles blinked at the completely unexpected and unfamiliar song that started to play.

 

" _Hello, it's me. I was wondering if after all these years, you'd like to meet. To go over everything; they say that time's supposed to heal you, but I ain't done much healing._ "

 

"You... You made me a mixtape?" Stiles asked, grinning broadly.

 

"A playlist. You won't remember a lot of music, so I thought you'd like this," Derek said, his cheeks pink.

 

"Oh, I love it!" Stiles said, taking the music player off Lydia's palm to scroll through the songs in the list.

 

"You didn't put that awful song in from a few years ago, did you?" Lydia asked, wincing.

 

"Which one?" Derek asked with a snort. "There's been a lot of awful songs in the last ten years, Lyds."

 

"You know, the one that goes - " she cut off to hum a few bars, and behind her, Derek shuddered.

 

"Definitely not. We agreed to never mention that song ever again!"

 

"I know, that's why I didn't say its name or lyrics," Lydia pointed out.

 

Derek muttered under his breath about awful songs being stuck in his head, and Lydia brought his hand up to kiss his knuckles lightly. They both watched as Stiles tapped on random songs to play them, listening to a few lines or a chorus before moving on to something else. The cacophony of noise should have been annoying, but Stiles' expressions - delight, nose scrunching, confusion, brief awe - made up for it all.

 

"Aw, Derek, you totally made me a mixtape. You _like me_ ," Stiles crowed.

 

"We're married, Stiles."

 

"Not the point! You _like-like_ me!"

 

"Did we or did we not just have sex?"

 

Lydia shook her head and grabbed the square to turn the music player off. Stiles could go through it later, once he and Derek finished their bickering-flirting thing.

 

" _You love me, you want to hold me, you want to_ \- oomph!" Stiles cut off abruptly as Derek leapt off the window seat, grabbed him about the waist, and pulled him up to kiss him firmly.

 

Stiles immediately wrapped his arms around Derek, one leg curved around his waist, and Derek held him up as easily as a feather. Lydia pulled her robe on and leaned back to watch, fluffing the throw pillows to get comfortable. In doing so, she accidentally knocked Stiles' journal off the window seat and it landed on the floor with a thud. Stiles and Derek stopped kissing at the noise, looking over at her.

 

"You can continue," she said with a grin.

 

"Oh, I was going to ask a question," Stiles realised, untangling himself from Derek's body and moving over to grab the journal.

 

Derek looked a little disappointed, and Lydia couldn't blame him, really.

 

Focused on his journal and not seeing their expressions, Stiles flipped through the pages until he found the one he wanted. Stiles vaguely noted Derek looking through their discarded clothes for a shirt or pants, and held the journal out to Lydia. It was a page of Stiles' client impressions, colour-coded and with various symbols. He pointed to one that looked vaguely like a triangle.

 

"What's this symbol mean? I've got most of them in a legend in the back of the book, but not this one. It's not a doodle, 'cause I know what my doodles look like - apart from that weird tree near the beginning; anatomy's usually my go-to."

 

"It's not a doodle. That symbol means the client isn't part of the supernatural community. I think it's adapted from the Deathly Hallows, so it's a triangle for Muggle, basically," Lydia explained; Stiles' mind could be a mystery even to those closest to him. "It's rare, but sometimes people just like our tech and want it for themselves. Most of the time it's because it looks futuristic or reminds them of things they've seen in _Star Wars_ or _Star Trek_. You'll see a lot of those symbols for the holographic wrist bands," she added.

 

"Ah, okay. Not up to that yet. Oh, and I noticed that this person's name is blacked out completely. Do I dare ask?"

 

"Blacked out means they're racist, homophobic, speciesist, hit on either me or Lydia, or a combination. If it's ____, then it's all of the above."

 

"Hmm, okay. I think I want to add more black marker to that name then," Stiles muttered, feeling odd about the defensive and jealous feelings that mixed in his stomach.

 

"Your desk is over there, feel free," Lydia said, grinning. "If you put Muse on the small metallic square on your desk, it'll keep the music restricted to your speakers, instead of the whole room."

 

"Oh, awesome. Is it bluetooth?" Stiles asked, taking the offered square to try it out for himself.

 

As soon as the device touched the metallic square, both lit up blue, and music started playing again. Stiles took it off, the music stopping immediately.

 

"It works similarly, but it's not bluetooth. Bluetooth died out around 2020 after this tech came in," Derek said.

 

"Is this something else we designed? I don't recognise the logo on it; is it Mahealani Tech?" Stiles asked, peering at the square.

 

"Yes, and yes," Lydia answered, grinning. "It's a turtle; the symbol for Ohana, and meant to be good luck."

 

"Speaking of Mahealani Tech, Danny wants the new designs for Muse 2.0 when your memory's back," Derek added.

 

"Where are the designs that he can't get them now?" Stiles asked.

 

"In your Muse. You've got it password protected, and haven't even told the password to me or Derek," Lydia said. "We'd take a guess if it's urgent, but Danny doesn't mind waiting."

 

"Wait, so this isn't mine?" Stiles asked, holding up the box.

 

"No, that's mine," Derek said. "Put it on my desk, you'll see."

 

Curious, Stiles did as Derek instructed, placing the box on the small metallic square on Derek's desk. Again, it lit up. Instead of playing music though, a holographic screen appeared on the wall in front of Derek's desk, and a keyboard shone on the desktop.

 

" _Whoa_."

 

"You should see your designs for Muse 2.0," Lydia said with a laugh. "But you might want to keep reading your journal first, there's still a while to go before you get up to the contract info with Duke."

 

"Who?"

 

"Deucalion. Sorry, forgot you didn't know that," Lydia said. "You call him Duke to piss him off, mostly."

 

"I'll have to remember that for the meeting," Stiles said with an evil cackle.

 

He pulled his pants on and sat beside Lydia on the window seat so he could continue to read. Derek brought Lydia a pair of sweatpants, shirt, and fluffy socks, then joined them on the window seat, reading his own book. Lydia flicked through her own Muse, her social feed updating with the different platforms people posted on.

 

They continued to read together for the rest of the afternoon, stopping only to answer Stiles' questions, and to eat.

 

Stiles went to bed that night, his head swimming with information. He snuggled up against Lydia and pulled Derek in close when he returned from his patrol, and fell asleep easily.

 

...

 

"So how much morning dew is actually needed?" Stiles asked, yawning widely in the early morning.

 

"Probably not much, but it's always better to get more. A full beaker should be enough," Lydia said, kissing his cheek. "I'll have coffee waiting for when you both get back."

 

Derek kissed Lydia, then grabbed Stiles around the waist and carried him off the porch towards the forest. "If we don't leave now, it'll be afternoon dew."

 

"When did you get a sense of humour?" Stiles joked, poking Derek in the abs.

 

"2018," Derek deadpanned.

 

" _Funny_ , sourwolf. Are you gonna carry me all morning?"

 

"Haven't decided yet."

 

"Can you smell if there's a birch tree out there?"

 

"Not in a forest this dense. I do know where some birch trees are growing though. Hopefully one's been hit with lightning."

 

"If it hasn't, then what?"

 

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

 

"Can I make lightning?" Stiles asked curiously.

 

Derek didn't answer, but he did put Stiles back on his feet and pointed out a small clearing of grass and flowers that would be perfect to gather morning dew. Stiles took out his beaker and gently scooped dew from the blades of grass and petals.

 

After a good twenty minutes, he'd finally filled the beaker and stopped it with a rubber cork. Standing, Stiles stretched his back, and realised he was alone.

 

"You've gone to find a birch tree, and haven't left me alone in the forest, right?" Stiles called out, a little weakly.

 

A growl answered him, and Stiles yelped in fear as a black wolf leapt into the clearing, a long branch in its mouth.

 

"Holy shit, oh shit, shit, _shit_. You're not going to eat me, right?" he asked, stumbling back and hoping like hell the wolf understood his terrified dialect of English.

 

The black wolf cocked its head, dropped the branch, and then started to change. Stiles tried desperately to keep his breakfast down as it changed from wolf to human in a matter of seconds. A very naked human that he recognised very well.

 

" _Derek?!_ Since when... What... _Whoa_."

 

Derek frowned when Stiles just trailed off, stared, and didn't continue talking. "I think I broke you," he muttered, crouching before him and waving a hand in front of Stiles' face.

 

He sighed and gathered his clothes, shaking off the dew before pulling his shirt and pants back on. Stiles stayed quiet, letting Derek lead him through the forest, and tried to think straight to get his million and one questions sorted in his head.

 

_Twenty minutes later..._

 

"Some warning would've been nice! Like, _hey Stiles, I can change into an actual honest-to-God wolf!_ Or, failing actual spoken words: a post-it, or a text on my shiny new phone! Or hire a sky writer, anything!"

 

"If you accept my fifth apology, then I'll change into a wolf for you," Derek bargained.

 

"Seventh. You were a goddamn _wolf_ , Derek."

 

Derek sighed and stopped abruptly. He set the lightning-struck branch on the ground, then pulled Stiles close and kissed him senseless. "I'm very sorry for not warning you. Better?"

 

"Need another kiss to make up for the seventh apology," Stiles mumbled, his face pressed against Derek's chest.

 

Derek didn't protest or argue, he simply tilted Stiles' head back gently and kissed him again. "Forgive me now?" he asked, his lips brushing against Stiles' and his stubble tickling his chin.

 

"Of course."

 

"Why can I hear you two arguing from here? And why did it take you over an hour to get dew and a branch?" Lydia asked, hands on her hips.

 

"I broke Stiles," Derek said. "I forgot that he didn't remember about the whole wolf thing."

 

" _The whole wolf thing_. You mean the thing where you're human one second, a goddamn wolf the next, and then naked?!"

 

Lydia smirked. "Are you more upset about the wolf or the nakedness?"

 

"Both!" Stiles muttered. "Now, you promised," he said, stepping back and waiting.

 

"Can I at least do this inside?" Derek asked, looking between them.

 

"All right, but bring the branch and dew inside so we don't lose them," Lydia said.

 

Stiles grabbed the branch off the ground and carried it towards the house. It was heavier than Derek made it look, and he almost stumbled going up the steps. Derek grabbed Stiles' hips to steady him, then took the branch and carried it inside.

 

"I was carrying it!" Stiles protested.

 

"You were dragging it," Lydia corrected, kissing him lightly. "Derek likes to show off his muscles for us poor frail humans," she added in a conspiratorial whisper, winking.

 

"I can hear you," Derek called.

 

"We love you too, dearest," Lydia called back, laughing. "Come on," she said, grabbing Stiles' hand and leading him inside. "Bet he's already naked," she murmured, hardly loud enough for Stiles to hear.

 

"Shirt," he whispered back, grinning and hoping his whisper was soft enough.

 

The large birch branch was leaning against the wall gently, a towel wrapped around it to stop it from marking the wall. Lydia looked pleased, and her grin widened even more when she saw Derek was naked.

 

"What did we bet?" Stiles asked, frowning briefly.

 

"Hmm, three kisses should be enough," she said, pulling him close to kiss him.

 

A few minutes later, Derek coughed politely to make them pull apart. Stiles felt a little lightheaded and was sure he was smiling goofily.

 

Lydia licked her lips, looking far too smug at Stiles' expression. "That was one."

 

Two more kisses like that, and Stiles was fairly sure he'd forget his own name.

 

Lydia tugged Stiles over to the couch, sitting him down before sitting next to him and putting her feet in his lap. They both watched Derek, waiting. Figuring he might as well do something productive while they waited, Stiles grabbed Lydia's foot and started to massage her.

 

"Whoa, no, you don't! Last time you tried that, I broke your nose," Lydia said, pulling her feet away sharply.

 

Stiles held his hands up, not wanting a repeat of _that_ , even if he didn't remember it. He looked to Derek, who was in the beta transformation already, eyes red, eyebrows gone and sideburns in full force. "Hey! I didn't see you change."

 

"You've seen this face hundreds of times, Stiles," Derek said around his protruding fangs.

 

"Doesn't mean I don't want to see you change again," he replied.

 

Derek slipped back to his human face, barely waiting before changing back swiftly. He then drew out his wolf, careful and slow, and changed. His arms and legs shortened, his hair growing thick and coarse, covering his entire body. His ears became pointed, his nose and mouth turning into a snout, hair growing over the smooth expanse of his forehead, his tailbone extending to a full grown tail, and his internal organs and body rearranging until he was completely changed into a wolf. Usually the process was much smoother and faster than that, but Derek knew that Stiles would appreciate the full change.

 

" _Whoa_."

 

Stiles moved Lydia's feet back gently and slid off the lounge, moving over to where Derek was standing, waiting patiently.

 

"Can I pat you? Can I pat him?" Stiles asked, looking between Derek and Lydia.

 

"He understands you. Just don't scream, it hurts his ears," Lydia said, watching with a smile.

 

Stiles nodded wordlessly, and turned back to Derek. He offered his hand out, as cautious as if he were a new K-9 unit. Derek snuffed in amusement and put his head under Stiles' hand completely, encouraging him to pat him properly. Stiles grinned so broadly his face ached, but he immediately started patting Derek and rubbing his ears gently, scratching at his neck. Derek let out a happy noise, practically flopping down onto his stomach as Stiles continued his ministrations. Lydia joined them then, patting Derek with long strokes that made him whine and turn onto his back.

 

"Please tell me we have a video of this somewhere," Stiles whispered.

 

"Of course. It was one of the first things we did," Lydia said, laughing. "You've password protected the video file so Derek can't delete it."

 

Stiles didn't doubt it. He and Lydia spent a good hour patting Derek until he started to doze off, his body pressed up against their legs. Lydia stood, leaving without a word, and returning just as silently. She offered Stiles his red and blue journals, bringing out her own laptop to do work as well. They spent the rest of the morning on the lounge room floor, reading together as Derek dozed beside them. It was kind of perfect, really.

 

...

 

Tuesday morning came far too fast for Stiles' liking. He'd spent all of Memorial Day curled up with Derek and Lydia, and while they'd had pancakes and sex, it wasn't the same. Even Stiles could tell that his stressed scent had filled the house as he desperately tried to read and memorise everything he'd written.

 

He spent a few minutes in the morning staring at his own reflection. Obviously, Lydia had bought his work clothes, because he was in a suit and damn, he looked good. Then Stiles saw Derek. His suit fit snugly in places, accentuating his frame and his muscles. Lydia grinned when she saw Stiles' slack-jawed expression, then asked Derek to turn around. Stiles almost forgot all about the presentation and Deucalion and the contract, and whatever else that _wasn't_ Derek's ass in those suit pants.

 

Derek blushed at their aroused scents, kissed them both briefly, and went downstairs. Lydia kissed Stiles as well, long and luxurious, leaving him breathless and fluttery in his chest.

 

"That's two kisses," she said, winking.

 

Alpha Industries was on the outskirts of Beacon Hills, a large ten-storey behind a fence that had security guards, with Stiles' magic embedded into the metal structure. He could recognise it easier now after spending more time in his workshop at home, and he could feel the tingle against his skin despite his suit. Feeling safe inside Alpha Industries now that he knew his magic was there too, Stiles forced himself to relax.

 

Inside the building, he met people he didn't remember, and sensing an impending panic attack, Derek steered Stiles straight to his office. No one seemed suspicious that Derek was carrying a large birch branch, Stiles noted vaguely.

 

Derek helped Stiles breathe through the attack, kissed him, and let Stiles get organised and comfortable in his office before their presentation. Derek's office was right next to Stiles, another aspect that helped him calm down. Outside, a clock chimed to signal it was 8am. As other employees in the office had their own projects to do, and everyone knew that he had a meeting with Deucalion that morning, Stiles was left alone. Their presentation was scheduled for 9am to allow for the time difference, making it 5pm in London. He had an hour to prepare.

 

Stiles' Muse connected to the desk easily, but it was still password protected, and while Stiles knew all of his passwords at 18, he was pretty sure he would've changed them since then. He used Derek's Muse to read through the presentation they'd created, and referred to his journal to make sure he actually knew what he was meant to be talking about.

 

As 9am approached, Stiles started to feel even more anxious. He almost screamed in fright when his phone rang loudly at 8:45am, Princess Leia's theme from _Star Wars_ playing and the holographic screen showing Lydia dressed up as Leia. He answered, Lydia appearing with a soft and somewhat worried smile.

 

"Hey Lydia," he said, trying to sound cool, calm, and collected.

 

"Breathe, Stiles."

 

 _Obviously not as cool, calm, or collected as he hoped_. Stiles breathed in and out deeply. Eventually, Lydia seemed convinced.

 

"Good, you look much calmer now. I'm calling to wish you luck. Though I know you're going to be awesome, even without it. And I know you're probably freaking out, but you need to tell Derek something for me, can you do that?"

 

"What do I need to tell him?" Stiles asked.

 

"You're loved, you're ours, we're yours, and we'll always be with you."

 

It sounded far more romantic than encouraging to him, but Stiles figured if it helped, then he didn't care _what_ it sounded like.

 

"I'll meet you after work; we'll go out for dinner to celebrate," Lydia said, smiling.

 

"Or commiserate," he muttered.

 

"No. We're going out to _celebrate_. Either Duke accepting the contract, or your first presentation in the adult world. Commiserating is only allowed when we're sure of defeat, understood?"

 

Stiles made himself nod in response. "Pessimistic views will be kept to myself."

 

"That's not what I mean, Stiles," Lydia said, looking a little upset. "We want to hear your views and opinions, no matter if they're pessimistic or not, but neither Derek nor I enjoy hearing you drag yourself down about things that are beyond your control."

 

Stiles thought he understood what she meant and nodded again, a bit more genuinely this time. "All right. Celebrate it is, then."

 

Lydia smiled brightly. "Look forward to it. I'll see you both at 5pm, okay? And don't forget to tell Derek what I said."

 

"All right. See you then. I won't forget," he promised. "Love you, Lydia."

 

"I know," she replied, making him grin. She blew a kiss and then her holographic image disappeared.

 

A knock at Stiles' door had him putting the phone away quickly. Derek opened the door and looked inside, Stiles relaxing at the sight of him. "How are you doing? Almost ready?" Derek asked.

 

Another bout of nerves hit Stiles at the question, sucker punching him right in the stomach. "Uhh. You know how you have that tie?" he asked Derek queasily.

 

"Already brought it for you," Derek replied, wrapping the bright blue tie around his neck and tying the knot with certain fingers.

 

As soon as the tie was tied and tightened, Stiles felt his nausea leave his body. "Oh, wow, that's _good_. We need to sell these."

 

Derek seemed surprised at the idea. "We probably could, actually. I don't know why we didn't think of it before. Erica and Isaac would enjoy creating a fashion range. They'd probably get the rest of the pack to model."

 

Stiles grinned and nodded; he could totally see that happening. "Oh, Lydia called. She said: you're loved, you're ours, we're yours, and we'll always be with you."

 

Derek's eyes widened slightly, his mouth dropping for a brief moment.

 

"Did I say it wrong?" Stiles asked, worried at Derek's response.

 

"I... No, you didn't. You said... It was. I just... I didn't think she even _knew_ ," Derek said, almost to himself.

 

"Lydia knows everything, you should know that by now," Stiles said with a quick grin. "What did it mean?"

 

Derek breathed in deeply, letting it out in a long sigh. "They're our wedding vows. You always say them before a presentation to help calm me down. I get - sometimes I get caught up in needing to be perfect, and not a failure. The words - you - remind me that I can fuck it all up and you'll both still love me anyway."

 

Stiles tried not to get emotional at the fact that he'd _forgotten_ his own wedding vows. _And he'd just recited them like a food order! What the hell was wrong with him?!_ He grabbed Derek's hand, squeezing firmly. "You're loved, you're ours, we're yours, and we'll always be with you," Stiles said, fierce and firm, the words a promise.

 

Derek seemed to realise exactly what Stiles meant and kissed him firmly, hands curled tight beside him to not ruin their suits. They pulled away, Stiles' lips red, and Derek looking as though he wanted to stay in Stiles' office for the rest of the day instead.

 

"Come on, we better get this done," Stiles murmured, taking Derek's hand and leaving before he gave in to Derek's expression.

 

Before they could enter the meeting room, Derek sprayed a misting liquid over them gently. "It removes lingering scents so Deucalion and his associates won't be overwhelmed."

 

Stiles' eyes widened. He'd read in his journal about the technological advancements and enhancements included for werewolves, he just hadn't thought they'd actually be _using_ them. It was a stupid mistake to make, obviously, and Stiles tried not to feel like a _complete_ idiot.

 

 _He had the tie, he knew the presentation from back to front, knew most of what he was talking about, and most importantly: even if he fucked up, Lydia and Derek would still love him._ He silently reminded himself of this two times, then nodded and went into the meeting room with Derek beside him. Stiles sat in the seat Derek pulled out for him. He guessed that Derek's chair was the one beside him, mostly because of the claw marks that littered the armrests.

 

"We're the only ones in here?" Stiles asked quietly, seeing the other chairs empty.

 

"Initial business deals are just us; the later meetings include the others if they're needed. No point in making them attend a meeting for no reason."

 

Stiles wanted to agree that it was a good point, but the wall across from them flashed with a phone icon. "Duke already has some of our tech to be able to smell scents, right?" Stiles asked quickly.

 

Derek nodded. "It's the most common piece of tech we sell."

 

"All right. I can do this," he said, just as the phone icon disappeared and five people appeared on the wall.

 

"Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. Alpha Deucalion, we are grateful for your presence," Derek said, inclining his head briefly.

 

"Good morning, gentlemen. Alpha Hale, Emissary Stilinski, we are grateful for your presence," Deucalion responded formally. He waited a beat before continuing, "We heard of your accident, Emissary Stilinski; we all sincerely hope that you will have your memory restored soon," he said, though he didn't sound sincere at all, and instead looked like he was testing Stiles in some unfathomable way.

 

Stiles had never been so grateful about keeping a meticulous journal. "Bite me, Duke."

 

To his credit, Derek didn't look scandalised, but Stiles was fairly sure he'd just put ten brand new claw marks into the chair's armrest.

 

Deucalion, on the other hand, just laughed heartily in response. "Nice to see you too, Stiles. Now, we're all aware of your amnesia, but there's a reason for us continuing the presentation besides all of our deadlines: we want to see how you can present your business when you only know the basic details. Most of my pack is technologically challenged, for lack of a better term, so they'll only know the basics themselves."

 

"No problem. I'm pretty sure they'd all know more than I would right now," Stiles said with a grin.

 

"Let's get this started, shall we? Mikaela's antsy to get home to her husband and pups."

 

"How are Oscar, Emmy, and Tony, Mikaela?"

 

"Sleep deprived," Mikaela replied, sounding exhausted herself.

 

"Then let's begin," Stiles said, hoping he didn't sound as nervous as he felt.

 

He surreptitiously wiped his sweaty hands on his pants, and then swiped at the table's surface to bring up his presentation and show it to the Londoners. Beside him, Derek no longer seemed to be gouging holes into the armrest. Stiles took a deep breath, reminding himself that he was still loved no matter what, and began presenting.

 

...

 

"How many of those claw marks are because of me?" Stiles asked Derek an hour later when he'd finished and the Londoners had disconnected the call, Mikaela already off her chair and heading for the door.

 

"Oh, no more than twenty," he replied off-handedly. "You couldn't resist the _Star Wars_ reference, could you?" Derek asked, smiling.

 

"Of course not. Mikaela got it at least."

 

"That's because she's part of the 501st Legion. She'd have to fall on her light stick if she didn't get that reference."

 

" _Light stick?_ You're just saying that so I'll go off on a tangent about lightsabers, aren't you?"

 

"Maybe," Derek replied, kissing him briefly. "Let's call Lydia to tell her the good news."

 

"They haven't agreed yet; they're just going to think about it."

 

"They didn't refuse outright," Derek replied pointedly. "Besides, I think you were amazing in your first professional presentation."

 

Stiles remembered Lydia's earlier words, and nodded. "All right, let's call her."

 

Derek called, Lydia appearing before the first ring had even sounded. She looked between them anxiously, and Stiles reminded himself that even if she didn't work with them at Alpha Industries full-time, she still owned one-third of the company.

 

"How'd you go? Did Deucalion accept?"

 

"Stiles, go ahead," Derek said with an encouraging nod.

 

"They didn't reject the proposal outright, but they're going to think about it. I... I think I did okay. Mikaela laughed at my _Star Wars_ joke at least," he added, inexplicably feeling more nervous recalling the presentation than he had actually presenting.

 

"That's great! What did Deucalion say about the magic embedded in the technology? Not all werewolves like another emissary's magic in their belongings."

 

"His pack still doesn't have an emissary yet, but they all seemed relieved that the magic can be used in conjunction with another emissary. They liked the examples I gave for the Nevada and Texas packs; their emissaries are well-known, apparently."

 

"They've helped us a couple of times when Marin's been unavailable," Derek added.

 

Which Stiles quickly translated to 'after Deaton'. He looked between Lydia's holographic image and Derek, reminding himself that they'd both promised on multiple occasions that he could ask them anything. Still, he felt surprisingly nervous about asking this question, mostly because he feared the answer.

 

"The letter I wrote to myself about the fairies? It mentioned some of what Deaton did: something about lighting up the town with my magic and leaving me for dead with a wendigo. What actually happened?" Stiles asked.

 

"Basically, that's what happened. It wasn't the wendigo's fault; Deaton had been using vials of your blood to bait the wendigo for weeks. The wendigo only followed its nature, thinking you were injured and already dying. Obviously, without Deaton using your blood as bait, the wendigo would never have attacked you," Lydia said, looking as though she wanted to find and hurt Deaton.

 

Stiles touched his chest, where under his shirt and tie, a jagged white line tore across his chest. "I almost died, didn't I?"

 

"I could hear your name, Stiles. I... I almost had to scream your name, and I - _shit_ ," she cursed heatedly, looking away from the phone to compose herself for a moment.

 

"Deaton told you he was teaching you how to use your spark, but all he did was make you keep increasing and releasing it until you were one bad spell away from going supernova. He planned on letting you do exactly that, burning out your spark so that he could claim it and the increased power for himself. He set the wendigo on you to make you use a larger defensive spell, and of course, you did exactly that because it was the only defensive spell he'd taught you. You started to burn out, but Deaton couldn't steal your spark. You'd been learning in your own time, and knew a spell to keep him back. You almost used all of your magic to keep Deaton away, even though the spell didn't affect the wendigo.

 

"Marin had felt the increase in power from Beacon Hills and was suspicious about Deaton's assurances that everything was fine. She was trying to find the source of power, and she found you being torn apart by the wendigo instead. Marin lured it away and kept you safe. She healed you when she could have stolen your power for herself," Derek said, sounding grateful, looking at Stiles with such adoration that he couldn't help but reach over and hold his hand. Derek smiled gently and squeezed his hand in return.

 

"Marin spent almost two hours bringing your power back to a controlled level, and by the time you could be moved to a hospital, you'd lost a lot of blood. You were in a coma for five days," Lydia said. "I... I didn't handle it well; I almost killed Deaton," she admitted, her cheeks red.

 

"What happened to him?"

 

"Wendigos drove him out of Beacon Hills soon after you woke up. Of course, since he was mysteriously lacking his magic, and you talked with the wendigo that tried to eat you mere hours before, Derek and I always suspected you had something to do with it," Lydia said, frowning as though he could answer her now.

 

Stiles just shrugged. "No idea."

 

Lydia sighed and ran a hand through her hair, deftly re-braiding her hair a moment later. "I think I might come over for lunch instead. Not sure I can wait until 5pm, and I've had enough for today."

 

"It's not even 11am yet," Derek pointed out.

 

"Not the point," she waved off.

 

"I agree with Lydia," Stiles said, tugging at the tie around his neck.

 

"That's decided then. What would you like for lunch?"

 

"Where were we going to go for dinner?" Stiles asked curiously.

 

Lydia considered it for a moment, then nodded. "It'll be a surprise, then. I'll bring your favourites."

 

"Ooh, curly fries?"

 

There was a beat of silence, and Derek shook his head. "Your favourite changed a few years ago."

 

"We had a ceremony and everything," Lydia said, trying not to smile. "I'll show you the photos later."

 

"What kind of ceremony? Wait, do I still like Reese's peanut butter cups?"

 

"They're still your favourite chocolate," Derek replied consolingly.

 

"I'd better go now if I'm going to get lunch in time," Lydia said, blowing them both kisses. "Love you both."

 

"Love you," Derek replied.

 

"Love you, Lyds," Stiles said, feeling a little giddy that he could just _say that_ and know that she knew he meant it.

 

Lydia hung up the phone call, and as Derek slipped his phone into his pocket, Stiles turned to look at his husband very seriously.

 

"You said favourite _chocolate_. What are my other new favourites? Am I cheating on my baby?"

 

"Lydia makes chocolate-covered protein balls with Reese's pieces instead of M&M's; they're your favourite 'healthy' sweet."

 

Stiles supposed that sounded all right. "What's your favourite?"

 

"I like dark chocolate. Milk chocolate is too sweet for me," Derek said, his nose wrinkling.

 

"You're too sweet," Stiles muttered, wanting to coo and call Derek adorable.

 

Derek looked a little confused at Stiles' words, but shrugged. "Not the worst thing I've been called."

 

"It wasn't an insult, sourwolf," he replied, rolling his eyes. "So what's Lydia bringing for lunch?"

 

"You'll see when she arrives with it," Derek said. "Come on, we'd better get back to work, or everyone will think we're in here doing other things."

 

"Sexy things, right?" Stiles asked with a broad grin. "Have we ever done sexy things at work before?"

 

Derek's cheeks and ears went pink. "Not in here; the scent speakers are very sensitive."

 

"Ooh, where then? Your office? Mine? Ooh, was it mine? You have to show me all the places, now."

 

"I've got work to do, Stiles."

 

Stiles pouted. "Come on, you can just take like ten, fifteen minutes to list off the places. Maybe show them to me, do a little reminiscing," he suggested with a wink.

 

"It'd take more than fifteen minutes," Derek muttered. "I'll give you a proper tour after lunch with Lydia, okay?"

 

"Reminiscing and sexy re-enactments are important parts of tours," Stiles said, eyes wide.

 

"They're not on this tour. We've got at least three werewolves out there, a wendigo, and a Mute Man with a sensitive nose. You know how loud Lydia likes to be, and you're not exactly subtle when it comes to sex either. Besides, the cleaners gave us hell last time."

 

Stiles pouted again, but conceded defeat. Derek opened the door and guided Stiles back to his office. He kissed him briefly, squeezing his hip. "I'll see you for lunch."

 

"Wait, Derek. What am I supposed to do?" Stiles asked quickly.

 

"You've got some new tech designs to look at, over there on your work station. There should be instructions in your work journal," Derek added. "Or you can keep reading your emissary journal," he suggested. "If you get bored, tap on the wall and I'll come back with a few easy jobs for you."

 

Deciding that 'easy jobs' probably translated to 'boring jobs that no one else wants to do', Stiles figured he could play around with the tech and read his emissary journal instead. He closed his office door after Derek had left, started Muse playing Derek's mixtape, and went to work.

 

...

 

Lydia greeted Mac as she entered Alpha Industries carrying several bags of takeout. Mac grinned and nodded to the bags.

 

"Did Stiles' meeting go that well then?" he asked.

 

"No idea, but he's nervous, so I thought I'd spoil him."

 

"Lucky man."

 

"I think so," Stiles said from the work area entrance, grinning at Lydia, looking excited at the sight of the takeaway bags. "Can we eat now? Someone heated up something delicious-smelling ten minutes ago and now I'm starving."

 

"Go get Derek away from his computer, and set up in whichever office is cleanest; I'll be there in a minute."

 

Stiles nodded, glanced at the takeaway bags again, then left.

 

"Oh, Marin left a few messages for you. She says it's about the fairies? I thought you'd dealt with them?" Mac queried.

 

"We dealt with the ones that were here. I'll take the messages in with me, thanks, Mac."

 

Mac taped the messages to one of the takeaway bags for Lydia, and she walked through the work entrance towards the offices.

 

Derek's office had been deemed cleanest, and seeing the mess through Stiles' window, Lydia wasn't surprised.

 

"Stiles, what on earth happened in your office?" Lydia asked, setting the bags down and taking off the taped messages to read.

 

"I started looking at the tech devices, then I realised I could barely use them, and I thought I'd try something new for when I have my full memory back. I don't want to play around with delicate magic, but I wrote a few notes in my journal."

 

"Anything good?" Derek asked.

 

"You'll have to wait and see," Stiles said, winking.

 

"I have bad news, and I have good news," Lydia said, setting the notes down in front of them. "The bad news is that the Fairy King and Queen were merely annoyed that we sent their fairy minions back, but then we killed the last three, who were apparently their offspring. So now they're seriously pissed, and they're probably coming to kill us."

 

"What's the good news?" Stiles asked, eyes wide.

 

"We have time to eat lunch before they're supposed to get here," Lydia said, sitting down and opening one of the bags.

 

"How will we know when they get here?" Stiles asked, looking between Derek and Lydia as they handed food to each other like this was an everyday occurrence.

 

"They're using the portal you initially made, so we know where they'll be, at least. As to when, I'm pretty sure their entrance won't be subtle. Besides, Derek can smell them."

 

"They smell like dirt, it's not pleasant," Derek said, his nose wrinkling.

 

"If we know they're going to be coming here to kill us, why the hell aren't we getting out of here?" Stiles asked incredulously.

 

"We've got your talismans to protect us. Besides, Marin's on her way. She managed to get away and avoid further muggings and police."

 

"What about the people that work here?"

 

"We'll give them the afternoon off once we've eaten. They'll think we're going to have sex instead of fighting off fairies," Derek said, shrugging.

 

"What if the fairies get here before then? Are the King and Queen bringing their minions with them? I don't know enough about magic to stop them, and we still have no idea what the talismans actually do, you realise that, right?"

 

Derek pulled Stiles down onto his lap to stop his pacing. "Stiles, I promise you that everything will be fine. You need to breathe, and eat something because we'll all need our energy."

 

Stiles forced himself to breathe in time with the rise and fall of Derek's chest, slowly calming down. When he was calm once more, Stiles looked between them. "I still don't get how you're both so calm about this."

 

"Years and years of practice," Lydia said, grinning as she offered him a box of food.

 

"What is it?" he asked warily, taking the box and moving to his seat between them.

 

"Open it and see for yourself," she said with a nod.

 

Stiles opened the box and frowned. "I thought you said I didn't eat curly fries anymore?"

 

"You don't, but I thought they'd help make the rest of it look more enticing," Lydia said.

 

"Just eat," Derek said, handing Stiles a spork.

 

"Letting you know: curly fries are a bad addition to what looks - and smells - like curry. How is this _goop_ better than curly fries?"

 

"I will put your face in your food if you don't eat it. And then you'll be facing off fairies with food on your face," Lydia warned.

 

Derek rolled his eyes. Then he tried to get some of Stiles' food, which just was not happening.

 

"Ohhh, no you don't! This food is mine! Even if it looks like goop," he muttered, reluctantly eating a tiny bite.

 

Lydia and Derek both looked at him, waiting expectantly with eyebrows raised. _They must've taught each other how to perfect that stare_ , Stiles mused. He took another bite, bigger this time, and pointedly avoided their looks. _Ugh, fine; it was delicious._

 

He devoured most of the food before Derek had even finished his own meal, and Lydia just smirked when she stole a curly fry from his box without Stiles even protesting. Derek snuck one as well, and Stiles was so full he couldn't even stop them.

 

"Okay. I concede; it was delicious. What was it?"

 

"Vegetable curry," Lydia replied, eating her lunch at a more reasonable pace.

 

"I ate a vegetarian meal?!" Stiles asked; his father would probably laugh at him from Italy if he knew.

 

"Uh-huh, and look at that: the world didn't end," Lydia said, smirking.

 

"Don't say that when we're about to face off with the Fairy King and Queen," Stiles pointed out.

 

"We'll be fine, Stiles," Derek said, taking another curly fry, and then pressing a kiss to Stiles' cheek. "You have to trust us."

 

"I do trust you. But I still have no idea what's going on, how to defeat the Fairy King and Queen, or how I'm supposed to protect either of you when I barely know enough magic to light a tea candle."

 

"You're already protecting us with the talismans you made. We have no idea what they're going to do either. The last fairies we fought were small and vicious, but easily distracted by shiny things, so the King and Queen might be as well," Derek said.

 

"Besides, we don't have to defeat them, we just need to get them to go back to their own plane of existence and away from Beacon Hills. Once they're gone, Marin will be able to close the portal for good and keep them locked in there," Lydia added. "You worked that part out, but you didn't get a chance to close it properly before you got hit by that car. If Marin can get your memory back in time, then she'll probably let you do it."

 

Derek kissed Lydia and thanked her for lunch, starting to clear their empty boxes.

 

"Hey! Where'd my curly fries go?" Stiles protested.

 

Derek kissed Stiles, and he tasted the salt and grease on his lips.

 

"Curly fry stealer."

 

"You still love me," Derek replied, taking the bag of rubbish out as he left the office. "Ladies, gentleman, and everyone else: you have the rest of the afternoon off."

 

A few people cheered, someone wolf-whistled, and Derek came back into the office with pink ears.

 

"They really think we're going to have sex?" Stiles asked, eyes wide.

 

"We might have been caught a few times in compromising positions," Derek said with a cough.

 

"Ooh, that's right, you promised me a sexy tour after lunch!"

 

"A _sexy tour_ , really?" Lydia asked incredulously.

 

"I said a tour. Stiles keeps adding the sexy parts in," Derek muttered.

 

"Well, someone has to," Stiles pointed out, grinning.

 

"Derek, has Stiles been wearing your tie all morning?"

 

"Damn, I didn't even think of it. Stiles, you need to give me the tie."

 

"Why?"

 

"Because it screws with your magic big time. Even if you don't have access to your magic."

 

"Oh."

 

Stiles slipped the tie off and handed it over to Derek. "Can we have the sexy tour now?"

 

"No. We'll take you on a _tour_ now," Derek replied, putting the tie away in his desk drawer. "Come on, everyone's already left."

 

Lydia tugged on Stiles' hand to keep him back. "Take off your jacket and roll up your sleeves. Derek has a thing about your forearms. You dressed up as a Death Eater for ComicCon one year and it drove him so wild that he practically carried you out of there after an hour. It's on YouTube somewhere."

 

Stiles didn't waste time in taking off his jacket and letting Lydia roll his shirt sleeves up. "What's your thing about me?"

 

"Oh, I like your forearms too. But in that suit? I especially like your ass. Now make sure to walk in front of me; we'll get Derek to cave in under five minutes."

 

Stiles laughed, kissed her, and walked to the office door. He glanced back to see Lydia ogling his ass and biting her lip. Stiles felt a little better as he walked out to where Derek was waiting for them patiently.

 

"Everyone sure left in a hurry."

 

"I always find it's harder to get back to work after a long weekend; I think most people are the same," Derek said, his gaze landing on Stiles' forearms.

 

Lydia joined them, standing up on her toes to rest her head on Stiles' shoulder. She pressed a kiss to his neck, her hands sliding down his sides to rest against the curve of his ass.

 

"So where'd we first have sex in here?" he asked with a grin.

 

"Seriously?" Derek asked, sighing. His cheeks and ears were pink though, and he kept glancing at Stiles' forearms every so often.

 

"We had sex in Derek's office first. He sat in that big armchair of his while I rode him, and you sat in the chair across from him and jerked off. Apparently the office smelled of sex for a week," Lydia said, biting at Stiles' ear lobe. "Of course, leaving my panties in there might've been the cause of that."

 

Stiles held perfectly still as Lydia's voice whispered in his ear, her hands reaching around to unbutton his shirt.

 

"Then we fucked in your office a week later. That time you fucked Derek over your desk while he ate me out. There's still a stain on your desk that everyone thinks was from coffee."

 

She brushed her fingertips over his nipples, puffy and getting hard at her light touch and soft words. Stiles hardly dared to breathe, just kept still and watched Derek as he stared at them, eyes glued on Lydia's hands.

 

"I surprised you both a month later for our anniversary, wearing nothing but a negligee under a coat. Derek fucked me against the wall so hard we had to get it re-plastered. My heels actually left bruises on his ass for an hour. Then you fucked me until I came, and I sucked you so hard that you actually whited out."

 

Stiles sucked in a deep breath at Lydia recalling one of his fantasies. Her hands moved from his hard nipples to his pants, the material already starting to tent with his half-hard dick.

 

"One time we were waiting for Derek to finish a meeting and thought everyone had gone home. Mac caught us, you with your hand under my skirt, and me with my fingers in your mouth. It took two weeks before you two could look at each other without stammering or blushing," Lydia added, sounding amused.

 

She pressed several kisses to his jawline, her hands squeezing Stiles' dick over his pants. He clenched his hands tightly, trying desperately to keep still.

 

"We had a celebratory make-out session when you managed to fuse your magic with your tech successfully. That one was fairly PG for us, but we were surrounded by colleagues and employees. The sexual tension after that kiss basically had everyone begging us to go home and get it out of our systems. We spent four hours doing exactly that. We had to buy a new bed afterwards."

 

"Over there's the kitchen, the meeting room's up there, the work area's over there, and your tech division's down the end of the hall," Derek breathed out in a rush, stepping forward to capture Stiles' lips with his own. "Fuck you both," he muttered as he pulled away.

 

"That's the plan, dearest," Lydia said with a laugh, kissing him over Stiles' shoulder.

 

...

 

As Lydia had promised, the Fairy King and Queen were not subtle in their arrival. Stiles' portal was located in Alpha Industries' largest testing room because it was one of the safest rooms in the building. The portal tore open at the seams, light filtering through and blinding them all momentarily. As attested to by the scratches on Stiles' face, the fairies were meant to be small beings. The two fairies before them were definitely not small. They towered over Derek, ethereal, pale, with long faces, and looking far more like the terrifying dark Queen Galadriel had become when holding the One Ring. Stiles couldn't tell which was the King or Queen, but he wondered if it even mattered to them. They seemed like the sort of beings for whom gender constraints no longer applied.

 

Lydia stepped forward, using several crystals, keys, and other shiny trinkets to reflect light onto the walls. The fairies didn't seem interested in the slightest. "Okay, not small, and definitely _not_ distracted by shiny things," she muttered.

 

"Go, go!" Derek called, pushing them towards the exit as the fairies tried to swipe at them.

 

"I'm going to have nightmares about this later, okay?" Stiles called, all of them running out of the testing room and up the hallway.

 

Unfortunately, Marin still hadn't arrived, and Stiles' magic was wavering the longer he didn't have access to it. Erica and Boyd had been called as backup, but weren't expected for at least another fifteen minutes.

 

"Next time, we're calling backup _before_ we need backup, okay?!" Stiles yelled over the crashing sound behind them; the fairies had broken the walls of the testing room entirely.

 

"That doesn't make sense," Derek replied.

 

"Really not the time for this discussion!" Lydia called, pressing the button for the elevator frantically.

 

The doors slid open and they tumbled inside, Derek pressing the close button so hard the button caved. The doors closed before the fairies could reach them, and Lydia pressed the button for the lobby. The elevator began its decent, and above them a loud scraping noise had Stiles jumping in fright.

 

"What the hell was that?" he asked, looking up.

 

The elevator lurched to a stop, Stiles and Lydia falling onto Derek painfully.

 

"I think they've opened the elevator doors and grabbed the cables," Derek said, straightening them both gently and checking they were all right, the elevator swinging slightly.

 

"Why didn't we take the stairs? We're the idiots in horror movies," Stiles moaned.

 

"They would have wrecked the stairwell entirely. The elevator's easier to replace than stairs," Lydia answered practically.

 

"Yeah, but _we're_ not replaceable!" Stiles replied, feeling like the walls were closing in on him. He forced himself to breathe and concentrate; now really wasn't the time for a panic attack.

 

Lydia's mouth tightened and she nodded. "Derek, I need a boost. Stiles, block your ears."

 

Derek lifted her without hesitating. Stiles covered his ears, watching to see what would happen. Lydia carefully moved the manhole on the elevator roof, looking up to where the Fairy King or Queen had hold of the cables.

 

"They haven't cut them, just holding them," she whispered down. "I'm going to scream now."

 

Derek nodded, his jaw clenching as he braced himself. Lydia let out a wailing scream, the noise flowing up the elevator shaft to hit the fairy. It let go of the cables with a screech of pain, and the elevator started to descend again quickly. Derek's ears were bleeding, but soon repaired themselves, and he shook his head to get rid of the lingering ringing.

 

"What was that?" Stiles asked, eyes wide. "That was your banshee power, wasn't it?"

 

"Partly. We've been working on it," she said with a terse smile. "I'll scream again as soon as the doors open, so stay behind me."

 

Stiles and Derek both nodded, and Stiles clutched at his talisman. He had no idea what the Fairy King and Queen could actually do compared to their smaller fairy minions, but he just hoped that the talisman actually fucking worked against them.

 

The doors opened and Lydia screamed, Derek and Stiles both covering their ears. They ran out behind Lydia as soon as she left the elevator, only to stop short when they saw the Fairy King and Queen waiting for them, long arms outstretched with thin sharp nails pointing. Reminded all too well of the tiny scratches on his face and resulting amnesia, Stiles shuddered at the thought of what _giant_ hands could do to him. He grabbed Lydia and Derek by the back of their clothes, tugging them back into the elevator and slamming the doors shut again.

 

"We could have taken them on," Derek said, eyes red.

 

"No, no we could not have. They're too big, and the tiny ones did this, remember?" Stiles said, pointing to his scratched face. "If it's amnesia from the small fairies, then it's probably wiping our entire existence with the big ones. Not happening. We're staying here until backup arrives," he added firmly.

 

The elevator doors started to dent inwards, just like Derek and the elevator button, and Stiles winced.

 

"Now what?" Lydia asked, looking at him.

 

"I don't know! I just know that out there is bad times, in here... slightly less bad times."

 

"Not helpful, Stiles. Do you remember anything from your journal? How to lure them away, perhaps? Maybe they need the shiny things on a bigger scale?" Lydia suggested.

 

"Maybe. The portal was set to be nice and shiny to get them straight into it. Except it was smaller for the fairies' size. If I can make it bigger, it might work," he muttered. "But I don't remember the spell, or even how to do magic. I need the journal."

 

"Where is it?" Derek asked, trying to straighten the doors so the elevator would work again.

 

"In my office, next to your Muse. Or somewhere nearby," Stiles added, remembering how much of a mess the office had become. "I can find it."

 

"All right. Derek and I will hold them back; you run to your office, get your journal, and come straight back, understood?" Lydia said, pressing a firm kiss to his mouth.

 

"Run, get the journal, come straight back. Got it."

 

"All right. Ready?" Derek asked with a grunt, the doors being pounded and dented in several places despite his efforts to keep them straight.

 

"Ready."

 

Derek straightened the doors with fast punches, his knuckles bleeding, but he ignored the pain and blood as he pulled the doors open. He did it as fast as possible, which meant the fairies didn't even realise the doors had opened until they were already open, their fists smashing straight into Derek's body. He flew back the short distance, crumpling against the wall.

 

"Stiles, go!" Lydia said, drawing in a breath and screaming to push the fairies back.

 

His ears ringing and his eyes glancing back to Derek's broken and bloody form, Lydia standing in front of him fiercely with nothing but a talisman and a scream, Stiles ran.

 

The office really was a mess, but it was also set up in a way that only Stiles' mind could truly comprehend. He stepped over and around various pieces of tech until he reached the desk, just as messy with notes as the floor with tech. Stiles found the red journal easily enough, but his blue emissary journal wasn't where he thought he'd left it.

 

"Shit-shit- _shit_. C'mon, where are you hiding, you little shit?" he muttered, searching under papers and bits of tech, even looking under the desk itself.

 

His movements must have knocked the Muse onto its square, and music started to play loudly. Stiles grabbed the Muse, wincing when he heard the fairies let out a screech, their large footsteps shaking the ground as they moved towards his office.

 

"Fuck," Stiles cursed, sitting on his chair, swivelling it around so the back faced the window and bringing his knees up so his body would be hidden. He barely breathed, though he thought he found his journal, currently wedged uncomfortably under his ass.

 

" _Hey!_ Look over here, you ugly giant weird fairy ghost things!"

 

Stiles was fairly sure he'd never been so happy to hear Erica's voice in his life. The fairies were distracted, their footsteps finally leading away from his office. Stiles peeked over the top of the chair, grabbed his blue journal, then the birch branch, sage bundles, and morning dew just in case, and ran back to the elevator.

 

"Pretty sure the plan was journal, then come back. Not setting off Derek's playlist, and bringing back everything in the office?" Lydia snapped, her worry and fear obvious in her voice.

 

"If Erica and Boyd's here, Marin might not be too far away," Stiles answered, setting everything down beside her and helping her move Derek to a sitting position.

 

" _Shit_. Next time, talismans need to ward off punches, okay?" Derek breathed, shallow gasps as his body started to repair itself.

 

He pressed a hand to his side, and Stiles tried not to gag as he heard a distinct cracking sound.

 

"Rib wasn't setting right," Derek explained. "You got the journal?"

 

Stiles nodded, reluctantly taking his gaze away from Derek to look at his journal. He flipped to the part about the fairies, thankful he'd kept up his usual colour-coding similar pages, and using post-it notes to label everything in sight. The portal spell was written there, the Latin words written in careful handwriting to avoid any confusion.

 

"Okay. I... I think I can do this. Pretty sure it's all still there, since the portal's there. Even though the fairies ripped it open, it's not ruined."

 

"Hey guys, ready to leave the elevator, or are you planning on hiding in here for the rest of the night?" Erica asked, eyebrow raised. "Whoa, Derek, what happened to you?"

 

"What's it look like?" he muttered.

 

Erica put her hands up in a placating gesture. "Sorry. Boyd's distracting them, where do you need to be?"

 

Stiles looked out of the elevator to see Boyd wolfed out, fighting with claws, his eyes golden. The fairies let out a mist and Stiles almost shouted out a warning, but Boyd didn't stop fighting, and as Stiles watched, the mist moved around Boyd harmlessly. He put a hand to his talisman, finally realising just what they did, and felt relief wash over him.

 

"I need to get to the testing room where the portal is. The talismans protect you against the fairies' main attacks. Next time I'll include punches," Stiles promised Derek, kissing his cheek.

 

"We'll bring Marin as soon as she's here," Lydia said. "Erica, you look after him. If he gets hurt, then I really will hurt you."

 

"Mm, kinky," Erica said, winking.

 

"No time for confused boners. Maybe later," Stiles said, patting her shoulder as he darted out of the elevator towards the testing room, holding his journal tightly.

 

Erica laughed and followed him, her claws out and her hair tied back. Their noise caught the attention of one of the fairies, who started to follow after them. Lydia deflected it with a scream, but it let out a screech of its own and threw Mac's table at the elevator, blocking it off completely.

 

"Shit! Erica, you gotta go back. Derek and Lydia are in there, and so's all of the stuff Marin needs to get my memory back. Go, I'll be fine!" Stiles called, waving her back.

 

"Fuck; do I piss off Lydia or Stiles?" Erica muttered, stopping for a second to decide which fate would be worse. " _Shit_. You have to protect me later, Stiles!" she called after him, running back to the elevator to fight off the fairy and get Derek and Lydia out.

 

Stiles skidded to a stop in the testing room, the portal still shining out blinding white light. He looked to his journal, reading over the instructions and code, and hoping he still remembered his Latin pronunciation properly.

 

" _Fulgebunt quasi stellae,_

_Inducam in terram usque ad cælum,_

_Domum ire est ad hominem_ ," he chanted.

 

If Lydia had heard his rusty pronunciation and stumbled words, she'd probably be rolling her eyes at him. Unfortunately, it was as good as he was going to get with only his 18-year-old's memories, but besides all that, it actually seemed to be working. The portal was still shining brightly, but it took on a glittery tint rather than a 'squinting at the sun' shine.

 

He repeated the words again, and then again once more, until the portal shimmered to show the fairies' home; he could hear music and practically see glitter in the air, the world beyond looking like a real-life fairy tale. It was so pretty that Stiles almost took a step forward himself. He shook his head and clutched his talisman in one hand, and shuddered as the portal showed the true world beyond, no longer shining and beautiful, but grey and dreary, the glitter replaced with wisps of mist, and the music with snarls and screams.

 

Stiles wasn't surprised the fairies needed their glitter and mist to convince people to leave with them; no one would _willingly_ step in there. He hid as the fairies made their way down to the testing room, drawn by the portal's light and music. They seemed to stop halfway down the corridor, and Stiles whispered the words again as loud as he dared, the portal's music and glitter becoming even more heavenly.

 

The fairies couldn't resist the final lure, drawn into the shining and beautiful world, and as soon as they were gone, Stiles chanted the last line to get the portal to close forever.

 

" _Caeli porta clauderetur in aeternum._ "

 

The portal began to close, and Stiles repeated the line three more times to close it faster, the shining and shimmering world disappearing, a faint scent of acrid smoke left behind.

 

"Everyone okay out there?" Stiles called, sinking down to the ground as his knees gave up on him.

 

Boyd came in a moment later, wiping blood from his scratched cheek.

 

"You still have your memory?" Stiles asked.

 

Boyd nodded. "The talisman stopped the amnesia from taking hold, but not the scratches themselves. It's better than the alternative. No offence," he added.

 

"None taken," Stiles said, waving it off. "Lydia, Derek? Are they okay?" he asked, trying to stand.

 

Boyd put a hand on his shoulder to keep him down. "They're coming, don't worry. Marin's with them. Her arrival is what stopped the fairies in the hallway," he added.

 

"Had to borrow Erica's talisman so they wouldn't come after me. Sorry I'm late. How are you doing down there?" Marin asked, smiling down at him.

 

"I'm alive, and I think I'd like my memory back now," Stiles said, looking to Derek and Lydia.

 

Derek looked much better, his breathing no longer shallow and laboured, and Lydia dropped right next to Stiles, hugging him firmly.

 

"Sorry I snapped at you, dearest," Lydia said.

 

"Nothing to be sorry about," he murmured, turning his head to kiss Lydia briefly.

 

Derek lowered himself to Stiles' other side, curling his arm around Stiles and Lydia's shoulders, nuzzling against Stiles' neck.

 

"I can definitely do that," Marin said. "Though, you could probably do it yourself. Looks like you didn't need me after all."

 

"I don't think I can move right now, so yeah, kinda do," Stiles muttered, holding onto Lydia and Derek.

 

He was curious about what Marin would do with the things they'd brought - and her own bag of ingredients - but Stiles wasn't kidding about not being able to move. The adrenaline had worn off completely, and besides, Lydia and Derek were curled up around him and there was _no way_ he was leaving them.

 

Erica and Boyd were sitting next to Derek, Boyd only moving when Marin asked him to break the branch into smaller twigs. Eventually, she seemed finished, and Stiles opened his eyes to look up, frowning when Marin offered him a steaming mug.

 

"You made _tea?_ "

 

"Of sorts. It's going to taste disgusting, but there's nothing I can do about that aspect of it. Drink it all; you'll remember everything in the morning," Marin promised, handing him the mug.

 

"Morning when I wake up, or like midnight on the dot?" Stiles joked weakly as he took the mug.

 

He grimaced at the smell, definitely not looking forward to the taste.

 

"Just drink it, Stiles."

 

Lydia and Derek sat up properly so he could drink - and probably to get away from the smell - and Stiles drank the steaming concoction. While Marin had used a mortar and pestle to pulverise all of the ingredients so he wasn't getting twigs and who knew what else stuck in his throat, the taste was still disgusting and he struggled to keep it down.

 

"Why couldn't I just have made it into a tea myself?" Stiles asked, eyes watering as he forced himself to gulp down the last of it.

 

"Because you were missing several of the vital ingredients required to make it into a tea, which is why I was out of the county in the first place. This stuff isn't something we can just order off Amazon, y'know."

 

"We need to change that; could've had overnight shipping and be done with this ages ago."

 

"Want us to call the cleaners?" Erica offered, standing with Boyd.

 

"Yes, please. Can you tell them not to go in Stiles' office though? It's not damaged, it's just a mess," Lydia added.

 

"It's an _organised_ mess. I know where nearly everything is," Stiles said.

 

"I know you do," she murmured, stroking his hair.

 

"I'll just check that the portal's completely closed, and then you can ask questions, if you have them," Marin offered, then chanted some words - Stiles didn't think they were Latin - and set the remaining bundle of sage on fire.

 

He watched curiously as she directed the smoke in the direction of where the portal had been, and though he was watching intently, nothing seemed to happen. Stiles hoped that was a good thing. Marin chanted a few more words, blew a powdered dust into the air, and the smoke disappeared completely. Stiles hoped he knew that spell.

 

"What was the smoke for?" Stiles asked, sitting up a bit straighter.

 

"If the portal was still open or accessible in any way, then the smoke would have gone through it," Marin explained. "You didn't get a chance to close it properly last time. Lydia spoke the words, but she didn't have your magic to seal it shut, which is why the Fairy King and Queen were able to get back through. They won't be coming back again, thankfully."

 

"Great. Go team," Stiles mumbled, exhaustion hitting him like a baseball bat over the head. "I don't - I don't usually get this tired after fighting. Do I?"

 

"There was a lot of chamomile in the tea. Not enough to mask the birch taste, but it'll help you sleep and recover. Lydia, Derek, call me if there's any issues in the morning. Stiles, we'll have a lesson this weekend; I think you've deserved a break until then."

 

"Cool. Thanks, Marin," he said with a big smile.

 

"What else was in that tea?" Lydia asked, standing and helping Derek lift Stiles to his feet.

 

"You don't want the full ingredient list, trust me," she replied.

 

Lydia nodded. "Have a good afternoon."

 

"You too. See you on Saturday," Marin said.

 

Erica and Boyd were at Mac's desk, using his phone to call their cleaners. Stiles felt like his everything was too big, too heavy, and took very careful steps over to them. Or maybe Derek was still carrying him and he was just swinging his legs, Stiles wasn't quite sure.

 

"Bye. Thanks for not... not dying," he said, waving awkwardly with his arms around Lydia and Derek's shoulders. "And for not letting me die either. That was awesome."

 

Erica laughed and hugged him briefly. "It was pretty awesome," she said, Stiles kissing her cheek with a loud smack.

 

"Go sleep it off, Stilinski," Boyd said, grinning when Stiles kissed his cheek loudly as well.

 

"Why're you acting like I'm drunk? I'm not... I drank _tea_. Fuck. Sleep now?" he asked wobbly, looking between Derek and Lydia as they helped him to the door and out to the car.

 

"Sleep now. Fuck later," Lydia said with a grin.

 

"S'posed to be the other way," Stiles mumbled, but he didn't protest as Derek helped him into the backseat, Lydia climbing in next to him.

 

He was belted in a moment later, his head resting against Lydia, and he was asleep before Derek even made it to the driver's seat.

 

...

 

Stiles blinked his way awake, everything aching and sore. He groaned as he sat up, looking for Lydia and Derek, only to find the bed empty.

 

"Lyds? Der?" he called, his throat scratchy. _Maybe there had been twigs in that tea after all._

 

"Be right there!" Lydia called, and Stiles couldn't help but grin when he heard Derek running up the stairs.

 

Derek and Lydia were in the doorway in under a second, both of them looking at him hopefully.

 

"Are you okay?" Derek asked.

 

"Do you remember everything?" Lydia asked.

 

"I remember the photo booth when we went to Coney Island, and the wedding we had in the preserve, and the fact that you two watched _Star Wars_ with me just so I could see it for the first time, even though we just watched it a month ago. C'mere," Stiles said, holding his arms out and grinning at them.

 

Derek and Lydia were in his arms in a moment, all of them falling onto the bed, and Stiles laughed as they kissed and hugged and touched him everywhere, scenting him like crazy.

 

"And Der, you made me a mixtape," Stiles cooed, kissing him all over his face. "And, Lydia, you knew I'd still go boneless and pliant when you play with my hair," he murmured, kissing her all over her face. "You totally love me."

 

"Of course we do," Lydia said, her lips against his neck. She pulled away to kiss him properly, then grinned at him. "That's three."

 

Stiles laughed and hugged her close, tugging Lydia back against his body, no matter how sore he felt. Derek was nuzzling against his skin, marking him with his stubble.

 

"You're loved, you're ours, we're yours, and we'll always be with you," Lydia promised softly.

 

Derek nodded in agreement, his face buried in the crook of Stiles' shoulder as he whispered the words as well.

 

Love filling his chest, Stiles knew they meant every word, and better still, he believed them.

 

...

 

The end.

 

Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Google translate was used for the Latin (apologies for any butchering of the language).
> 
> Shine bright as a star,  
> Bring the heavens to Earth,  
> To move the beings home.
> 
> Close heavenly portal forever in time.


End file.
